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^j>  Samuel  JH.  CrotI)erj{ 


OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES:  THE  AUTO- 
CRAT AND  HIS  FELLOW  BOARDERS.  With 
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HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
Boston  and  New  York 


AMONG   FRIENDS 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/amongfriendscrotOOcrotrich 


J5  AMONG 
FRIENDS 


BY  SAMUEL  McCHORD  CROTHERS 


BOSTON    AND    NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON    MIFFLIN    COMPANY 

MDCCCCX 


COPYRIGHT,   I91O,  BY  SAMUEL  MCCHORD   CROTHERS 
ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 

Published  November  iqio 


CONTENTS 

rAGS 

AMONG   FRIENDS i 

THE  ANGLO-AMERICAN  SCHOOL  OF  POLITE 

UNLEARNING       ......  25 

THE  HUNDRED    WORST   BOOKS     ...  64 

THE   CONVENTION   OF   BOOKS        ...  96 

IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS  .         .         .         .  129 

MY  MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN   PERSIA         .         .  169 

THE  COLONEL  IN  THE  THEOLOGICAL  SEM- 
INARY    194 

THE   ROMANCE   OF   ETHICS    .         .         .         .  aaa 

THE  MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION  .         .  254 


AMONG  FRIENDS 


IT  is  not  so  much  what  is  said,  as  the  person 
who  says  it,  that  makes  an  impression.  One 
whom  we  distrust  makes  a  remark,  and  it  is  at 
once  invested  with  a  sinister  meaning.  We  are 
sure  there  is  harm  in  it.  Another  person  utters 
the  same  sentiment,  and  it  is  accepted  as  the 
suggestion  of  ripe  wisdom. 

Thus  we  are  shocked  at  the  inquiry  of  a  cer- 
tain New  York  poHtician  whose  reputation  was 
not  that  of  an  idealist :  "  What 's  the  Constitution 
among  friends  ? "  We  scent  treason.  The  civic 
conscience  is  aroused  and  bristles  with  fine  moral 
indignation.  We  would  have  this  gentleman  and 
his  friends  know  that  we  set  great  store  by  the 
Constitution.  This  venerable  document  is  not  to 
be  treated  lightly  by  persons  who  are  no  better 
than  they  should  be.  It  is  to  be  interpreted  by 
the  Supreme  Court,  and  is  not  to  be  meddled 
with  by  political  tricksters. 

But  we  turn  to  the  seventeenth  century  and 


2  AMONG   FRIENDS 

dip  into  Seidell's  "  Table-Talk."  Selden  is  good 
company.  He  is  the  friend  of  Hampden  and 
Pym  and  Sir  John  Eliot  and  all  the  leaders  in 
the  movement  for  constitutional  freedom.  He  is 
a  profound  jurist  and  a  pleasant  companion,  and 
the  men  most  worth  knowing  meet  at  his  table, 
where  they  informally  discuss  the  great  affairs  of 
state.  One  day  the  question  arises  as  to  the  place 
of  the  House  of  Commons  in  the  scheme  of 
government.  Appeal  is  made  to  certain  acts  of 
Parliament  as  if  they  settled  the  question  once 
for  all.  To  this  Selden  replies :  "  The  House  of 
Commons  is  called  the  Lower  House  in  twenty 
acts  of  Parliament ;  but  what  are  twenty  acts  of 
Parliament  among  friends  ?  " 

At  once  we  answer:  what  indeed!  Acts  of 
Parliament  are  very  well  in  their  way,  but  we 
want  to  get  at  something  more  fundamental.  An 
act  of  Parliament  is  what  these  gentlemen  and 
their  friends  see  fit  to  proclaim  to  the  world.  But 
now  that  we  are  privileged  to  enter  the  inner 
circle,  we  should  like  to  know  what  they  really 
think.  Since  they  took  formal  action  it  is  possible 
that  they  may  have  changed  their  minds. 

We  are  among  men  who  are  dealing  freely 


AMONG  FRIENDS  3 

with  matters  which  to  the  commonalty  are  in- 
vested in  mystery.  These  law-makers  are  too  sensi- 
ble to  bow  down  and  worship  the  work  of  their 
own  hands.  They  are  rather  inclined  to  tinker 
with  their  political  contrivances,  to  see  if  they 
may  not  be  made  to  work  better.  There  is  more 
than  one  way  of  doing  a  good  thing,  and  they 
are  ready  for  experiments.  In  such  company 
great  affairs  take  on  a  homely  aspect.  We  begin 
to  see  that  Parliament  is  made  up  of  folks.  These 
folks  have  all  the  ordinary  aptitudes  for  making 
mistakes.  They  are  subject  to  prejudice,  and  they 
are  often  compelled  to  act,  as  do  the  rest  of 
us,  from  imperfect  knowledge.  Their  pompous 
language  at  first  imposes  upon  us  and  obscures 
the  plain  meaning.  But  when  we  get  used  to  it 
we  see  that  it  is  only  a  mannerism.  These  honest 
gentlemen  are  trying  to  do  their  duty,  though 
often  with  considerable  bungling. 

All  this  is  taken  for  granted  among  friends. 
Freed  from  any  hampering  assumptions  of  im- 
peccability or  infallibility  they  can  cheerfully 
discuss  not  only  what  they  have  done  but  also 
what  they  have  tried  to  do.  They  are  not  ashamed 
to  talk  aboyt  their  failures  as  well  as  about  their 


4  AMONG  FRIENDS 

successes.  It  is  all  a  part  of  their  common  experi- 
ence. 

This  free  movement  of  the  mind  among  its 
own  works,  with  its  frank  criticism  of  its  inci- 
dental shortcomings,  is  one  of  the  pleasures  of 
really  good  society.  We  are  delighted  when  we 
fall  in  with  people  who  are  doing  things  and  who 
are  kind  enough  to  take  us  into  their  confidence 
and  chat  with  us  while  they  work.  When  we  catch 
them  in  the  very  act,  they  are  so  much  more  in- 
teresting than  anything  which  they  actually  ac- 
complish. There  are  a  hundred  little  self-revela- 
tions that  would  never  have  a  place  in  a  dignified 
history. 

Yet  curiously  enough  there  is  nothing  which 
the  ordinary  mortal  is  so  ashamed  of  as  being 
surprised  in  the  midst  of  unfinished  work.  The 
good  woman  shelling  peas  on  the  back  porch 
makes  a  pleasant  picture.  She  is  looking  her  best, 
if  she  only  knew  it.  But  when  a  caller  from  out- 
side her  own  circle  appears,  she  bustles  about, 
removes  her  gingham  apron,  the  badge  of  her 
interesting  domestic  avocations,  and  receives  her 
guest  in  the  characterless  best  room. 

Only  among  her  friends  will  she  continue  to 


AMONG   FRIENDS  5 

shell  peas  while  she  gossips  about  the  things  she 
really  cares  for.  And  if  they  are  very  good  friends 
she  will  allow  them  to  take  a  hand  in  the  morn- 
ing's work. 

In  like  manner  the  men  who  are  carrying  on 
great  undertakings  are  usually  sensitive  about 
being  caught  in  their  working  clothes.  They 
"  make  company  "  of  the  public  and  exhibit  only 
their  completed  work.  Of  course  that  is  not  what 
any  one  wants  to  see.  The  political  orator  will 
point  with  pride  to  what  his  party  has  accom- 
plished in  the  past,  while  he  maintains  a  decent 
reserve  as  to  its  attitude  in  regard  to  the  burning 
questions  of  the  day.  This  is  safe,  for  dead  issues 
tell  no  tales,  but  it  is  not  interesting.  Spent  deeds 
and  accomplished  facts  may  be  arranged  neatly 
for  exhibition.  But  our  curiosity  is  aroused  in 
regard  to  half-formed  purposes,  vague  aspirations, 
and  unsuccessful  attempts.  We  want  to  know, 
not  so  much  what  a  man  has  done  as  what  he 
is  trying  to  do. 

One  of  the  simplest  of  rural  delights  is  that  of 
burning  brush.  The  odds  and  ends  of  the  clearing 
are  thrown  together  higgledy-piggledy,  till  one 
has  satisfied  the  primaeval  desire  for  chaos.   Then, 


6  AMONG  FRIENDS 

when  the  match  is  lighted,  the  fire  dances  like 
mad  through  the  dry  boughs.  There  is  no  sug- 
gestion of  order  in  the  long,  uneven  tongues  of 
flame.  It  is  only  when,  in  the  still  air,  the  fire  has 
burned  itself  out,  that  we  see  any  symmetrical 
arrangement.  There  is  then  a  circle  of  ashes  sur- 
rounded by  a  circumference  of  the  charred  ends 
of  sticks.  Each  poor  survivor  points  decorously 
to  the  centre  as  if  to  say,  "  There  was  a  hot  time 
awhile  ago,  and  things  looked  rather  mixed.  But 
discipline  reasserts  itself,  and  here  we  are,  all  that 
are  left  of  us,  standing  decently  and  in  order." 

How  perfectly  simple  old  controversies  always 
seem !  All  the  confusing  elements  were  burned 
up.  When  we  read  about  them  the  only  wonder 
is  that  anybody  could  have  been  confused.  Yet 
at  the  time  everybody  was  taking  sides  vigor- 
ously, and  no  two  persons  could  agree  as  to  what 
it  was  all  about.  Personal  likes  and  dislikes, 
prejudices  and  frailties,  religious  affections  and 
affections  that  were  not  so  religious,  were  all 
mixed  up  together. 

When  we  are  dealing  with  human  nature  at 
first  hand  this  complexity  always  appears.  Persons 
who  have  a  love  of  system  which  is  stronger  than 


AMONG  FRIENDS  7 

the  passion  for  reality  have  a  way  of  putting  an 
orderly  arrangement  of  hard  facts  in  place  of  vital 
processes.  They  look  upon  the  deed  as  more  im- 
portant than  the  doer,  the  thought  than  the 
thinker. 

This  is  the  molluscous  point  of  view.  The 
mollusk  differs  from  the  vertebrate  in  that  he 
wears  his  bones  on  the  outside.  To  him  this  ap- 
pears to  be  the  only  safe  and  sane  fashion.  Pre- 
senting an  ossified  surface  to  the  world,  he  feels 
that  he  is  adequately  protected  from  his  natural 
enemies.  There  is  a  certain  advantage  in  this,  but 
it  has  its  drawbacks.  While  his  hard  exterior 
prevents  the  world  from  getting  at  him,  it  also 
prevents  him  from  getting  at  the  world.  A  bivalve 
loses  many  of  those  reactions  with  his  environ- 
ment which  are  so  necessary  to  the  educational 
process.  Therefore  bivalves  never  evolve  a  civ- 
ilization. 

Institutions,  laws,  systems,  customs,  creeds, 
conventions,  are  the  bony  structure  of  social  life. 
Without  them  we  were  jelly-fish  indeed,  and 
the  prey  of  every  passing  circumstance.  But  the 
question  is  whether  they  shall  be  considered  from 
the  molluscous  or  from  the  vertebrate  point  of 


8  AMONG  FRIENDS 

view.  Shall  they  serve  as  a  backbone  or  as  a 
shell? 

It  is  too  late  now  to  lament  the  invention  of 
the  alphabet.  It  has  come  and  come  to  stay.  But 
we  may  confess  that  the  great  Illiterates  to  whom 
we  owe  what  is  fundamental  in  our  laws,  our  re- 
ligion, and  our  poetry,  had  the  advantage  of  us 
when  it  came  to  getting  at  the  human  element  in 
truth.  There  were  no  books,  but  only  men  think- 
ing ;  no  written  creeds,  but  only  men  believing ; 
no  biographical  dictionaries,  but  only  tribal  he- 
roes who  were  remembered.  There  being  no  arti- 
ficial way  of  preserving  thoughts,  they  had  to  use 
them  fresh.  Indeed  a  thought  was  real  to  them 
only  while  they  were  thinking  it.  When  they 
got  through  with  that  they  had  to  think  of  another. 
They  had  to  make  much  use  of  meditation  and 
conversation.  In  those  days  the  intellectual  work- 
ing classes  were  not  confronted  with  the  idle 
rich,  who  live  on  the  unearned  increment  of  the 
general  advance  in  knowledge  and  with  whom 
it  is  "  easy  come,  easy  go."  People  who  had  to 
do  their  own  thinking  knew  what  every  thought 
cost. 

We  who  get  our  ideas  through  books  and 


AMONG  FRIENDS  9 

lectures  rather  than  through  the  free  conversa- 
tional method,  are  likely  to  fall  victims  to  the 
formality  of  our  instructors.  There  is  a  certain 
finality  in  a  treatise  that  imposes  on  us.  It  is  a 
one-sided  performance.  The  party  of  the  first 
part  has  an  advantage  over  the  party  of  the  second 
part  and  uses  it  mercilessly.  There  is  a  monopoly 
which  results  in  a  restraint  of  the  trade  of  think- 
ing. The  monopolist  pushes  his  own  idea,  and 
crowds  out  all  competitors. 

We  even  get  the  conception  of  a  thought  as 
a  commodity  that  can  be  passed  from  one  person 
to  another  without  losing  its  value.  A  publisher 
working  on  this  assumption  advertises  a  "  Dic- 
tionary of  Thoughts."  He  asks,  "  Have  you  not 
sometimes  felt  the  need  of  a  thought  on  some 
subject*?"  Of  course  we  have,  and  are  at  once 
interested.  In  answer  to  this  felt  need  he  has 
compiled  his  dictionary,  which  contains  thirty 
thousand  thoughts  of  sixteen  hundred  of  the 
world's  greatest  thinkers.  "When  you  want  a 
thought  look  for  it  just  as  you  would  for  a  word 
in  the  dictionary." 

At  a  time  when  the  cost  of  living  is  increasing 
by  leaps  and  bounds,  it  is  encouraging  to  find 


lo  AMONG  FRIENDS 

that  the  cost  of  thinking  is  so  reasonable.  One 
can  get  thirty  thousand  thoughts  for  $2.98. 

As  a  thought  is  conceived  of  as  something 
that  can  be  stored  away  in  a  book,  so  reverence 
for  the  Law  sometimes  takes  the  form  of  reverence 
for  certain  printed  words  beginning  with  the  awe- 
inspiring  formula,  "  Be  it  enacted."  That  the  law 
should  be  enforced  seems  unnecessary ;  its  proper 
place  is  on  the  statute-book,  where  it  is  respected 
as  a  counsel  of  perfection.  So  attempts  to  make 
the  conduct  of  the  citizens  conform  to  the  law 
or  the  law  conform  to  the  ordinary  conduct  of 
the  citizen  are  resisted  with  the  same  earnestness. 
We  may  see  whole  communities  so  encrusted 
with  statutory  virtue  that  it  is  impossible  to  know 
what  they  are  really  like. 

Religion  is  liable  to  the  same  incrustation,  as 
you  may  learn  if  you  attempt  to  read  almost  any 
formal  church  history.  You  begin  with  pleasant 
anticipations.  You  think  you  arc  to  have  the 
story  of  the  Christians  and  learn  what  they  have 
been  doing  during  these  many  centuries  to  realize 
the  beatitudes  and  put  the  Golden  Rule  on  a  busi- 
ness basis.  You  will  have  a  succession  of  personal 
narratives  like  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles.  But  after 


AMONG  FRIENDS  ii 

the  first  century  it  is  evident  that  the  author  loses 
the  thread  of  the  narrative.  There  is  a  great  deal 
about  Councils  and  Heresies  and  Schisms  and 
Creeds  and  Decretals  and  Liturgies  and  Reforma- 
tions and  Counter-reformations.  But  what  has 
become  of  the  Christians? 

Even  Philosophy,  which  is  a  brave  attempt  to 
winnow  the  wheat  from  the  chaff,  and  to  rescue 
the  essential  from  the  non-essential,  is  liable  to  be 
encased  in  a  formalism  of  its  own.  It  is  in  its 
main  intent  a  rebellion  against  the  tyranny  of  the 
external.  Its  characteristic  expression  is  in  what 
Lord  Bacon  called  "  sober  satire ;  or  the  insides 
of  things."  To  one  who  is  curious  about  the  in- 
sides of  things  there  is  something  ludicrous  in 
the  assumption  of  the  matter-of-fact  man  that  he 
knows  it  all,  and  that  realities  are  the  same  as 
appearances.  "  What  is  a  matter  of  fact  ?  "  asks 
the  philosopher ;  "  pray  show  me  one."  But  the 
philosopher,  being  human,  is  as  likely  as  the  rest 
of  us  to  fall  a  victim  to  the  ambition  to  make 
a  fair  show  in  the  world.  Having  exposed  the 
matter-of-fact  world,  he  proceeds  to  construct  a 
world  out  of  matter-of-theory.  He  has  the  same 
feeling  toward  his  doctrines  that  the  tradesman 


12  AMONG  FRIENDS 

has  toward  his  goods  which  he  is  arranging  attract- 
ively in  the  show-window. 

This  interest  in  the  arrangement  of  his  ideas 
becomes  more  important  to  him  as  his  surprise 
over  their  novelty  grows  less.  That  happens  in 
the  grave  philosophical  world  which  happens  in 
the  hen-yard  to  the  distress  of  the  manager.  A 
fowl  of  excellent  breed  will  go  on  cheerfully  lay- 
ing an  egg  a  day  and  calling  upon  her  friends 
to  rejoice  over  each  achievement.  Then  suddenly 
she  becomes  irritably  self-conscious  and  anti-social. 
She  is  on  the  defensive  and  insists  on  sitting  on 
the  one  china  egg  rather  than  any  longer  contrib- 
uting to  the  common  store. 

So  the  philosophic  mind  is  liable  to  become 
"  broody."  It  is  then  no  longer  content  to  produce 
fresh  thoughts.  It  must  hatch  out  a  complete 
system  of  its  own.  The  philosopher  in  this  mood 
is  irritable  beyond  the  wont  of  ordinary  mortals. 
When  another  philosopher  approaches  he  flies  at 
him,  for  he  suspects  that  he  has  come  to  destroy 
his  metaphysical  nest-eggs. 

A  glance  at  a  philosophical  library  will  show 
how  many  huge  volumes  have  been  the  result  of 
this  mood.   A  philosopher  is  at  his  best  when 


AMONG  FRIENDS  13 

he  is  thinking  a  new  thought,  he  is  at  his  worst 
when  he  is  defending  his  old  thoughts  against 
all  comers.  This  is  a  sore  trial  to  his  temper  and 
does  not  really  improve  his  intellect.  Now  and 
then  we  find  one  who  keeps  on  thinking,  without 
caring  very  much  what  becomes  of  his  thoughts. 
He  knows  that  there  are  more  where  they  come 
from.  Then  you  have  a  Plato  whose  philosophy 
takes  the  form,  not  of  a  system,  but  of  a  conversa- 
tion among  friends. 

The  beauty  of  a  conversation  is  that  the  other 
side  always  has  a  chance.  There  is  no  finality  as 
the  friendly  speech  goes  on  in  a  series  of  polite 
half-contradictions.  "  What  you  were  saying  just 
now  was  very  interesting  and  was  quite  true  in 
its  way.  It  reminds  me  of  an  experience  which  I 
once  had  which  shows  that  the  subject  may  be 
looked  at  in  a  different  way." 

The  natural  man,  or  rather  the  natural  boy, 
puts  these  contradictions  more  bluntly.  Huckle- 
berry Finn  and  his  compeers  begin  the  conversa- 
tion with  "  You  lie ! "  which  leads  to  the  clever 
repartee  "You're  another!";  after  which  they 
feel  acquainted. 

As  we  grow  more  maturely  civilized,  these 


14  AMONG  FRIENDS 

sharp  antagonisms  are  softened  until  they  become 
merely  a  pleasing  variety ;  or,  in  Milton's  phrase, 
"brotherly  dissimilitudes  not  vastly  dispropor- 
tionable."  In  order  to  have  a  conversation  with 
you,  it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  assume  that 
the  truth  is  not  in  you,  but  only  that  you  have 
approached  the  truth  from  a  somewhat  different 
angle.  You  had  overstated  one  side  in  order  that 
I  might  make  the  needed  correction. 

Two  Infallibilities,  each  speaking  ex  cathedra^ 
could  not  converse;  they  could  only  fulminate. 
After  the  first  round  they  would  relapse  into  sullen 
silence.  When  we  start  out  with  the  easy  assur- 
ance of  mutual  fallibility,  we  can  go  on  indefi- 
nitely setting  each  other  right.  Thinking  comes 
to  be  a  cooperative  industry  in  which  we  share 
the  profits.  We  not  only  reason,  but  we  reason 
together. 

In  free  conversation  the  truth  slips  out  that 
would  be  carefully  concealed  in  a  formal  docu- 
ment. We  perceive  not  only  what  was  done  but 
the  "  moving  why  they  did  it." 

King  James  the  First  was  one  of  the  most 
voluminous  of  royal  writers,  and  in  the  huge 
folio  volume  that  contains  his  complete  works 


AMONG  FRIENDS  15 

you  may  see  so  much  of  the  working  of  his  mind 
as  he  chose  to  exhibit  to  the  public.  He  wrote 
with  the  intent  to  prove  that  the  mind  of  a  King 
by  Divine  Right  moved  always  in  a  lofty  orbit 
of  its  own.  But  in  the  report  of  a  little  conversa- 
tion one  sees  how  it  actually  did  work.  Selden 
had  written  a  monumental  work  giving  many 
reasons  in  support  of  His  Majesty's  claims  over 
the  surrounding  seas.  It  was  a  labored  vindication 
of  one  of  the  King's  favorite  doctrines.  But  when 
it  was  presented  to  him,  he  withheld  his  approval, 
and  would  not  allow  its  publication.  "I  have 
borrowed  money,"  said  His  Majesty,  "of  my 
brother  of  Norway,  and  I  intend  to  borrow  more." 

This  is  not  the  kind  of  reason  that  would  be 
presented  in  a  dignified  state  paper,  but  it  is  one 
which  every  canny  Scot  in  the  King's  dominions 
could  understand.  After  all,  the  mind  of  a  King 
by  Divine  Right  worked  in  a  way  that  was  quite 
comprehensible. 

What  is  lost  in  dignity  is  gained  in  reality. 
Among  friends  there  is  no  talking  down  or  talk- 
ing against,  no  undue  moralizing  or  sentimental- 
izing. Apologies  are  not  in  order  where  people 
know  each  other  and  make  allowances  for  mutual 


i6  AMONG  FRIENDS 

imperfections.  Each  working  Tgroup  is  held  to- 
gether by  tacit  understandings  which  are  the 
result  of  much  talking  together  while  they  work. 
Beneath  all  superficial  differences  there  is  a  solid- 
arity of  sentiment  that  is  taken  for  granted. 

But  between  men  of  different  groups  there  are 
direful  misunderstandings.  When  once  the  idea 
of  hostility  is  implanted  every  deed  is  interpreted 
at  its  worst.  It  stands  out  in  stark  iniquity,  with- 
out any  kindly  voice  to  plead  for  it.  "  An  enemy 
hath  done  this!"  That  is  enough.  Age-long  feuds 
between  classes  and  parties  and  nations  have  been 
the  results. 

One  of  the  most  cheering  signs  of  the  times  is 
in  the  increased  use  of  the  conversational  method 
in  the  settlement  of  such  disputes.  The  idea  is 
that  men  of  different  groups  should  come  together 
and  converse  freely  on  the  matters  that  concern 
them.  Their  deliberate  aim  should  be  to  under- 
stand one  another.  After  they  have  succeeded  in 
that,  they  may  resume  their  hatred  if  they  can. 
The  chances  are  that  they  will  form  a  larger 
group,  and  a  new  group-consciousness  will  grow 
up.  In  such  free  conferences  old  antagonisms 
born  of  fear  die  away  and  are  forgotten. 


AMONG  FRIENDS  17 

Our  own  ideas  are  clarified  when  we  make 
friends  with  persons  of  a  different  way  of  think- 
ing. "  Every  man  seemeth  right  in  his  own  eyes ; 
but  his  neighbor  cometh  and  trieth  him." 

If  you,  dear  reader,  are  a  hard-headed  business 
man,  you  have  many  ideas  that  seem  right  in 
your  own  eyes.  When  you  were  a  boy  you  were 
taught  the  fundamental  virtues  of  thrift,  industry, 
and  honesty.  You  have  made  your  own  way  in 
the  world  by  hard  work.  You  are  no  dreamer, 
yet  you  are  a  great  believer.  You  believe  in 
Progress  and  Prosperity  and  Success.  You  are 
also  a  believer  in  Democracy,  by  which  you 
mean  the  right  of  any  one  else  to  strive  for  the 
things  you  strove  for  and  get  them  if  he  can. 
You  would  tolerate  no  artificial  barriers  in  the 
way  of  Progress. 

Just  what  Progress  is,  is  a  speculative  ques- 
tion which  you  do  not  care  to  discuss.  You  are  a 
practical  man,  and  it  is  sufficient  for  you  to  know 
that  any  one  who  stands  in  the  way  of  Progress 
will  be  run  over.  And  it  will  serve  him  right. 
The  direction  of  Progress  is  determined,  not  by 
our  moral  preferences  (which  are  all  right  in  their 
way),  but  by  Natural  Law.  Find  out  what  Natu- 


1 8  AMONG  FRIENDS 

ral  Law  is  about  to  make  everybody  do,  and 
then  do  it  before  they  know  what  it  is.  That  is 
Success.  Success  consists,  not  in  doing  what  you 
want  to  do  and  doing  it  well ;  it  is  doing  what 
you  have  to  do  and  being  quick  about  it.  It  is  to 
"  get  there."  Where  "  there  "  is,  is  another  matter 
that  does  n't  much  concern  a  practical  man.  A 
newspaper  poet  wrote  of  his  hero,  — 

He  came  from  where  he  started 
On  the  way  to  where  he  went. 

He  was  successful  if  he  got  to  where  he  went  be- 
fore other  people  arrived.  Then  he  could  preempt 
the  territory,  and  wait  for  Prosperity.  We  should 
all  believe  in  Prosperity,  even  if  it  takes  our  last 
cent. 

As  for  the  Future,  it  is  very  bright  if  only 
enough  people  will  continue  to  sacrifice  them- 
selves to  Prosperity,  and  not  interfere  with  Natu- 
ral Law.  If  we  can  keep  irresponsible  agitators 
from  tinkering  with  the  Tariff  and  other  Business 
Interests,  Natural  Law  will  eliminate  the  unfit 
and  Progress  will  go  on.  We  will  make  many 
more  things  that  we  do  not  want,  and  sell  them  at 
a  profit  to  people  whom  we  can  persuade  to  buy 


AMONG  FRIENDS  19 

them  whether  they  want  them  or  not.  In  this  way 
we  shall  advance  Civilization. 

But  if  the  people  keep  all  the  time  interfering 
with  Natural  Law  and  telling  the  Business  In- 
terests what  they  ought  not  to  do,  they  will  fall 
into  Socialism,  —  and  then  what  will  become  of 
them? 

When  you  put  these  thoughts  into  an  after- 
dinner  speech  at  the  Mercantile  Club,  they  were 
received  with  much  applause. 

Or  it  may  be,  dear  reader,  that  you  are  not  a 
hard-headed  business  man,  but  a  hard-headed  re- 
former. You  have  done  a  good  deal  of  reading 
and  not  a  little  thinking  on  these  lines,  and  have 
come  to  some  definite  conclusions.  You  have  a 
Programme,  which  you  expect  to  see  fulfilled  to 
the  letter.  Like  our  friend  the  business  man,  you 
are  a  great  believer  in  Natural  Law,  but  you  see 
into  it  a  little  further  than  he  does.  Natural  Law 
is  about  to  spring  a  great  surprise  on  him  and  his 
kind.  By  a  few  simple  processes,  which  you  ex- 
plain at  length,  it  has  built  up  that  sum  of  all 
villainies,  the  Existing  Order.  Some  well-mean- 
ing persons  are  wasting  their  time  in  trying  to 
patch  up  the  Existing  Order,  and   to  remove 


20  AMONG  FRIENDS 

some  of  its  worst  evils.  But  they  disquiet  them- 
selves in  vain.  Like  the  "One-Hoss  Shay"  it  is 
built  in  such  a  logical  w^ay  that  it  will  go  to 
pieces  all  at  once.  Just  wait  and  see.  The  plan 
is  for  Natural  Law  forcibly  to  feed  Capitalism,  as 
if  it  were  a  Strasburg  goose.  When  it  has  be- 
come incredibly  fat,  it  is  to  be  killed  and  carved 
for  the  benefit  of  the  hungry  Proletariat.  This 
will  happen  if  the  meddling  bourgeois  philan- 
thropists don't  interfere  with  Natural  Law,  so 
that  by  that  time  there  won't  be  any  hungry  pro- 
letariat. 

After  the  Big  Business  is  "  taken  over,"  we  will 
proceed  to  take  over  the  little  businesses,  and 
after  that  we  will  arrange  the  matter  of  the  Fam- 
ily. There  is  still  some  difference  of  opinion  on 
this  point.  However,  the  Family  is  either  a  kind 
of  Property  or  it  is  dependent  on  Property,  and 
it  will  probably  have  to  go.  To  be  sure,  in  the 
Existing  Order  there  are  some  families  that 
have  n't  any  property  to  speak  of  and  are  held 
tegether  by  a  sentimental  bond.  You  confess  that 
this  is  a  rather  difficult  part  of  the  programme, 
and  you  will  not  commit  yourself  to  a  final  opin- 
ion till  you  look  it  up  in  a  book.  But  of  one 


AMONG  FRIENDS  21 

thing  you  are  sure,  and  that  is  that  the  final  ar- 
rangement will  be  the  one  that  is  most  logical 
and  which  carries  out  in  most  complete  detail 
the  programme  of  your  party. 

You  put  these  thoughts  into  a  fiery  speech 
which  the  members  of  your  party  approved. 

Now  it  would  be  very  easy  to  take  the  remarks 
of  you  two  gentlemen  seriously,  and  see  two 
great  opposing  principles  which  are  bound  to 
come  into  collision.  On  the  one  side  there  is  a 
hard  unyielding  commercialism  anxious  to  per- 
petuate itself,  and  on  the  other  a  radical  recon- 
struction of  society  on  definite  plans  and  with 
specifications  that  are  well  understood.  We  must 
all  take  sides  and  choose  once  for  all  between 
this  and  that 

But  before  we  get  unduly  excited  let  us  take 
into  consideration  the  fact  that  the  direction  of 
social  progress  is  everybody's  business,  and  we 
cannot  tell  what  will  be  done  till  everybody  has 
been  consulted.  It  takes  more  than  one  thorough- 
going Socialist  to  make  a  revolution,  and  it  takes 
more  than  one  hard-headed  business  man  to  pre- 
vent it.  If  there  is  to  be  a  revolution  we  are  to  be 
the  revolutionists,  —  not  some  of  us,  but  all  of  us. 


22  AMONG  FRIENDS 

It  will  not  be  the  effortless  advance  of  disem- 
bodied ideas,  but  changes  in  the  feeling,  thinking, 
and  acting  of  multitudes  of  living  men  and  women. 
There  must  be  a  working  majority  in  favor  of 
each  change. 

This  being  the  case,  the  opinion  of  any  indi- 
vidual, or  even  any  one  class,  as  to  the  exact 
way  in  which  everybody's  business  is  to  be  done, 
while  interesting,  is  not  so  exciting  as  it  seems  at 
first.  When  a  bill  comes  out  of  committee,  it 
often  looks  so  different  that  the  original  proposer 
does  not  recognize  it  as  his  own.  All  proposals 
for  the  betterment  of  mankind  have  to  be  sub- 
mitted to  the  judgment  of  mankind.  In  this  way 
they  receive  many  amendments. 

Even  if  Socialism  were  adopted  by  the  people 
of  the  United  States,  it  would  only  be  that  kind 
of  Socialism  which  the  people  of  the  United 
States  approved,  and  which  fitted  in  with  their 
political,  social,  and  religious  habits.  It  would  be 
very  different  from  the  logical  system  which  one 
of  our  friends  insists  upon,  and  from  the  Red  Peril 
which  the  other  fears.  The  logicians  might  try 
their  hands  in  running  the  complicated  business 
according  to  their  cut-and-dried  system. 


AMONG  FRIENDS  aj 

Our  business  friend  says  the  country  under 
their  management  would  soon  go  into  the  hands 
of  a  receiver.  In  that  case  the  hard-headed  busi- 
ness man,  with  his  equally  able  friends,  would  be 
appointed  receivers,  with  instructions  to  adminis- 
ter the  concern  in  the  interest  of  all  the  stock- 
holders. And  the  chances  are  that  they  would 
accept  the  job,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  they 
should  not  make  a  success  of  it. 

When  we  come  together  in  sufficiently  large 
numbers,  and  with  a  sufficiently  generous  spirit, 
party  labels  and  grandiose  programmes  of  action 
lose  their  significance.  They  only  indicate  what 
some  of  us  would  like  to  do,  they  do  not  indicate 
what  all  of  us  will  do. 

When  the  New  Boy,  with  a  will  of  his  own, 
enters  the  playground,  he  states  with  great  pre- 
cision his  views  as  to  what  should  be  done.  He 
makes  his  demands  in  a  tone  that  satisfies  his 
sense  of  public  duty.  But  the  little  body  politic 
is  not  greatly  disturbed.  The  other  boys  inquire, 
"  Will  you  have  it  now  or  will  you  wait  till  you 
can  get  it  ?  "  After  a  trial  of  strength  the  New 
Boy  decides  that  he  will  wait  a  while.  After  a 
time  he  comes  to  the  conclusion  that  before  he 


24  AMONG  FRIENDS 

can  accomplish  much  he  must  establish  friendly 
relations.  Perhaps  he  is  not  the  only  one  to  be 
consulted,  and  he  might  as  well  inquire  as  to 
what  the  other  fellows  want  to  do.  When  he 
reaches  this  point  he  has  learned  what  it  means 
to  be  a  member  of  Society. 

After  all,  what  are  Civilizations,  and  the  Rights 
of  Man,  and  the  Progress  of  the  Species,  and 
Philosophy  and  Political  Economy,  and  Social- 
ism and  Individualism,  and  Representative  Gov- 
ernment, and  all  the  other  great  subjects,  among 
friends  *?  They  are  only  the  provisional  answers 
to  the  questions  which  we  ask  when  we  begin 
to  make  ourselves  at  home  in  the  world:  How 
are  all  the  folks?  How  are  they  getting  on 
with  their  work,  and  how  do  they  make  both 
ends  meet?  What  are  the  young  people  think- 
ing about,  and  what  new  notions  have  they  got 
into  their  heads  ?  On  the  whole,  how  do  you 
think  they  are  coming  out? 


THE  ANGLO-AMERICAN  SCHOOL  OF 
POLITE  UNLEARNING 


IN  the  exuberant  hospitality  of  America,  if  a 
person  wants  anything  he  has  only  to  ask  for 
it.  Whether  he  gets  it,  is  another  matter ;  he  will 
at  least  get  something  with  the  same  name. 

In  London,  if  one  in  his  secret^  heart  longs  for 
something,  he  has  only  to  leave  the  main  thor- 
oughfares and  get  lost.  He  finds  himself  in  a 
maze  of  narrow  streets  where  shopkeepers  make 
a  living  by  selling  unheard-of  things  to  people 
who  have  wandered  in  by  accident  These  shop- 
keepers never  advertise.  Their  disposition  is  se- 
cretive, and  they  trust  to  the  method  of  ambush. 
A  person  is  walking  along  with  only  a  vague 
impulse  to  find  his  way  out  without  demeaning 
himself  by  asking  advice  of  a  policeman.  He 
finds  himself  in  front  of  a  shop  devoted  to  traffic  in 
snails  from  Astrakhan.  It  is  the  sole  emporium  for 
these  articles.  If  the  wayfarer  be  of  an  inquiring 
mind,  the  unexpected  supply  wakens  a  demand. 


26  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

at  least  the  demand  for  further  knowledge.  Who 
is  there  in  all  London  who  would  be  likely  to 
support  such  a  shop,  or  even  know  that  it  is  here? 
The  dingy  sign  appeals  not  to  his  conscious  aims 
but  to  a  dim  sub-conscious  longing  for  he  knows 
not  what.  It  seems  a  very  strange  coincidence 
that  he  of  all  persons  in  the  world  should  have 
come  upon  the  only  place  in  London  where  these 
articles  are  for  sale.  The  chances  are  that  if  he  be 
an  American  he  will  pluck  up  courage  and  ven- 
ture in  and  ask  the  proprietor,  "  How 's  the  snail- 
trade  to-day*?"  The  shopkeeper  receives  him 
without  surprise.  He  knows  that,  according  to 
the  doctrine  of  probabilities,  somebody  is  bound 
to  turn  up  in  his  shop,  sometime. 

To  my  mind  this  is  the  very  romance  of  trade. 
Had  I  a  moderate  but  assured  income,  as  I  trust 
all  these  London  shopkeepers  have,  I  should  fol- 
low their  example.  I  have  no  ambition  to  be  a 
great  "  captain  of  industry,"  and  have  the  maga- 
zine writers  tell  the  truth  about  me.  I  should 
prefer  to  be  one  of  these  merchant  adventurers 
in  a  small  way.  Hiding  my  shop  from  the  un- 
sympathetic public  "as  if  the  wren  taught  me 
concealment,"  I  should  bide  my  time.  Let  the 


POLITE   UNLEARNING  27 

huge  department  stores  cater  to  the  obvious  wants 
of  the  crowd.  Some  day  my  customer  will  drift 
in.  He  will  find  that  my  shop  satisfies  an  inner, 
and  hitherto  unfelt,  want.  He  will  inadvertently 
buy  something.  Then  he  will  drift  off  to  the  An- 
tipodes, and  ever  after  boast  of  his  bargain. 
When  he  compares  notes  with  other  travelers,  he 
will  take  down  his  treasure  and  ask,  "  When  you 
were  in  London  did  you  happen  upon  a  queer 
little  shop,  the  only  place  where  they  sell  this 
sort  of  thing?  "  And  when  they,  in  shamefaced 
fashion,  confess  their  failure  to  have  discovered  me, 
they  will  fall  in  his  esteem. 

I  claim  no  merit  for  having  one  day  wandered 
from  the  plain  path  of  High  Holbom  into  an  ob- 
scure street  where  I  accidentally  stumbled  upon 
what  was  to  me  the  most  interesting  place  in 
London.  I  am  aware  that,  if  I  had  not  stumbled 
accidentally  upon  it,  it  would  not  have  seemed  so 
interesting  to  me.  It  was  not,  as  it  happened  this 
time,  a  shop,  but  an  educational  institution.  The 
sign  above  the  door  must  have  been  recently 
painted,  but  the  London  smoke  had  already  given 
it  an   air  of  grimy  respectability.    I  read  with 


28  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

pleasure  the  legend,  "The  Anglo-American 
School  of  Polite  Unlearning." 

I  was  gratified  over  my  discovery.  Institutions 
of  learning  we  have  at  home  —  and  some  very 
good  ones  too ;  but  I  realize  tliat,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  somewhere  in  London  there  must  be  an 
institution  for  the  benefit  of  persons  who  are  de- 
sirous, not  so  much  of  learning,  as  of  being  as- 
sisted to  unlearn  a  number  of  things  that  are  not 
good  for  them.  And  here  it  was.  Like  so  many 
things  in  London,  the  moment  I  saw  it,  I  felt  that 
I  had  always  seen  it. 

A  few  moments  later  I  was  in  familiar  converse 
with  the  Principal  of  the  school,  who  gave  me 
the  history  of  the  institution  from  its  inception. 
He  was  a  quiet,  unassuming  man,  thoroughly 
devoted  to  his  idea.  In  this  age  of  educational 
fads  it  was  a  pleasure  to  find  some  one  who  ad- 
hered to  very  simple  methods.  "  We  do  not  be- 
lieve," he  said,  "  in  what  is  called  enriching  the 
curriculum.  When  there  have  accumulated  such 
vast  stores  of  misinformation,  we  do  not  think  it 
wise  to  burden  our  pupils'  minds  by  trying  to 
get  them  to  unlearn  everything.  Such  smattering 
has  little  educational  value.  We  limit  ourselves 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  29 

to  seeing  that  a  few  things  which  make  the  peo- 
ple of  one  country  obnoxious  to  the  people  of 
another  shall  be  thoroughly  unlearned.  When 
we  consider  what  soil  and  climate  have  done  in 
developing  our  own  splendid  type  of  manhood, 
it  is  natural  that  we  should  think  highly  of  our  own 
national  environment,  but  it  is  unfortunate  that 
we  should  usually  think  so  poorly  of  those  whose 
environment  has  been  different  Each  nation 
*  holds  a  thought'  of  its  neighbors,  and  these 
thoughts  are  seldom  altogether  flattering.  This  is 
evidently  a  case  for  the  application  of  mind  cure. 

"  Even  with  nations  so  akin  to  each  other  as 
the  British  and  the  American,  the  thoughts  that 
are  held  are  not  always  pleasing,  especially  when 
they  sometimes  forget  their  company  manners. 
The  adjective  'American'  is  not  usually  found  in 
conjunction  with  those  heavenly  twins, '  Sweetness 
and  Light.'  Indeed,  the  suggestion  is  quite  the 
opposite.  Only  when  used  in  connection  with 
dentists  does  it  imply  undoubted  excellence.  In 
the  United  States  the  word  British  is  not  used  as 
a  term  of  endearment. 

"  A  good  while  ago  Emerson  declared  that  the 
English  had  good-will  toward  America,  but  in 


30  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

their  ordinary  conversation  they  forgot  their  phi- 
losophy and  remembered  their  disparaging  anec- 
dotes. Of  course  the  difficulty  lies  partly  in  the 
nature  of  an  anecdote.  Those  we  tell  about  our 
best  friends  usually  convey  to  a  stranger  the  im- 
pression that  they  are  half-witted.  It  would  be 
possible  to  collect  a  vast  number  of  anecdotes 
illustrative  of  the  fact  that  most  people  will,  under 
ordinary  circumstances,  act  in  a  rational  manner. 
The  trouble  with  such  anecdotes  is  that  they  are 
so  hard  to  remember. 

"  One  is  led  to  inquire  as  to  the  best  means  to 
promote  international  good-will.  One  of  the  most 
obvious  methods  is  through  the  encouragement 
of  travel.  Railways  and  steamships,  by  annihilat- 
ing distance,  may,  it  is  said,  annihilate  the  en- 
mities between  nations.  The  more  opportunities 
people  have  of  seeing  one  another,  the  better 
friends  they  will  be.  This  theory  is  such  a  credit 
to  human  nature  that  at  first  I  accepted  it  with- 
out a  question. 

"  I  looked  at  the  growing  passenger-lists  of  the 
transatlantic  steamers  and  thought  of  the  peaceful 
invasion  of  our  American  cousins.  Here  are  mis- 
sionaries  of  good-will.   No   collections!   Every 


POLITE   UNLEARNING  31 

man  his  own  Missionary  Board,  paying  his  bills 
and  diffusing  the  gospel  of  kindliness.  Think  of 
these  fresh,  enthusiastic  missionaries  who  are  con- 
tinually seeing  and  being  seen,  appreciating  and 
being  appreciated.  And  think  of  the  cordial  feel- 
ing diffused  through  America  by  every  English 
traveler  who  goes  about  viewing  American  insti- 
tutions and  candidly  telling  the  people  what  he 
thinks  of  them.  I  had  thought  of  suggesting  that 
the  Palace  of  Peace  at  the  Hague  should  be  sur- 
mounted by  an  heroic  statue  of  the  travel-com- 
pelling Cook. 

"  My  enthusiasm  for  travel  as  a  sufficient  cor- 
rective of  international  misunderstandings  was 
chilled  by  observations  on  its  results. 

"  A  friend  who  for  many  years  had  spent  his 
summers  in  Switzerland  remarked  that  the  Ger- 
mans are  less  popular  than  they  were  before  their 
present  era  of  prosperity.  I  asked  the  reason,  and 
he  answered,  '  We  see  more  of  them  now.*  I  have 
known  Germans  who  insisted  that  a  visit  to  Eng- 
land did  not  cure  Anglophobia,  any  more  than 
the  application  of  water  would  cure  Hydropho- 
bia. It  might  even  aggravate  the  symptoms.  That 
going  to  see  people  may  have  different  effects  is 


32  POLITE   UNLEARNING 

shown  in  our  use  of  the  words  *  visit '  and  '  visita- 
tion.' Whether  a  visit  shall  seem  like  a  visitation 
depends  a  good  deal  on  the  visitor. 

"  I  greeted  a  Lancashire  manufacturer  on  his 
return  from  the  United  States.  'How  did  you 
like  it  over  there  ? '  I  asked.  '  I  did  n't  expect  to 
like  it,'  he  answered, '  and  I  did  n't  like  it  as  well 
as  I  expected.  It  was  brag !  brag !  all  the  time, 
and  when  I  found  that  I  was  beginning  to  brag 
too,  I  thought  it  was  time  for  me  to  come 
home.' 

"  He  seemed  grateful  for  his  preservation  as  one 
who  had  providentially  escaped  the  plague.  A 
few  months  later,  being  in  New  York,  I  happened 
to  mention  his  name  to  a  gentleman  to  whom  he 
had  brought  letters  of  introduction.  It  appeared 
that  this  gentleman  had  not  recognized  the  admi- 
rable qualities  which  had  made  my  Lancashire 
friend  an  ornament  to  his  native  city.  He  had, 
however,  borne  him  no  personal  malice,  but  had 
set  down  all  his  less  pleasing  characteristics  to  his 
nationality.  After  narrating  several  incidents  illus- 
trative of  the  general  quality  of  pig-headedness, 
he  added  charitably, '  But  what  could  you  expect 
of  a  Britisher?* 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  33 

"  Travel  can  hardly  be  relied  upon  as  a  suffi- 
cient salve  for  international  irritations.  There  is 
sure  to  be  a  fly  in  this  ointment.  The  fly,  I  take 
it,  is  apt  to  be  imported.  The  trouble  comes,  not 
from  something  the  traveler  sees  which  he  dis- 
likes, but  from  some  prepossession  which  makes 
him  dislike  what  he  sees.  He  sets  out  with  certain 
preconceived  ideas  which  he  uses  alternately  as  a 
club  with  which  to  belabor  the  foreigners  on  their 
native  heath,  and  as  blinders  to  prevent  himself 
from  seeing  anything  new.  As  a  consequence, 
his  little  journey  in  the  world  does  not  add  to  the 
sum  total  of  the  amenities. 

"  An  Englishman  goes  to  New  York  with  the 
settled  conviction  that  it  ought  to  be  just  like 
London.  When  he  discovers  that  it  is  n't,  trouble 
begins.  He  accumulates  incontrovertible  evidences 
of  divergencies.  It  is  too  hot  in  summer  and  too 
cold  in  winter  and  too  noisy  all  the  time.  The 
buildings  are  too  high,  and  the  lifts  drop  suddenly 
from  under  him,  giving  him  a  '  gone '  feeling  that 
he  does  n't  like.  Above  all  there  is  a  distressing 
dearth  of  afternoon  tea. 

"With  the  best  intentions  in  the  world  he 
points  out  these  defects  of  a  crude  civiHzation. 


34  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

He  waxes  didactic.  These  things,  my  brethren, 
ought  not  so  to  be. 

"  And  his  American  brethren  do  not  like  it.  It 
is  not  because  they  really  care  a  fig  about  their 
sky-scrapers,  with  their  necessary  attendant  evils. 
It  is  because  they  had  wished  to  show  him  some 
things  they  were  really  proud  of  and  which  he  in 
his  misery  refuses  to  see. 

"  The  American  in  the  old  country  makes  him- 
self obnoxious  in  the  same  way.  He  starts  out 
with  the  assumption  that  London  is  and  of  right 
ought  to  be  a  bigger  Seattle.  It  has  had  plenty  of 
time,  and  if  it  is  not  up-to-date  it  argues  a  mental 
defect  on  the  part  of  its  citizens.  He  is  disap- 
pointed in  what  he  sees.  The  belated  people  still 
go  about  on  omnibuses  and  seem  to  like  it.  The 
telephone  service  is  beneath  contempt,  and  the 
ordinary  business  man  does  only  one  thing  at  a 
time.  This  is  all  wrong,  and  with  the  zeal  of  a 
missionary  he  urges  the  native  islanders  to  *  get 
busy.'  He  explains  to  them  the  defects  in  their 
education.  On  the  slightest  provocation  he  in- 
dulges in  statistics  of  American  bank  clearances 
and  grain  shipments,  and  the  increase  in  popula- 
tion since  the  last  census.  He  is  annoyed  because 


POLITE   UNLEARNING  35 

they  refuse  to  be  astonished  at  these  things  and 
reserve  their  surprise  for  his  incidental  revelations 
of  the  methods  of  municipal  politics.  He  is 
thoroughly  kind.  He  is  careful  to  make  them 
understand  that  he  does  not  wish  to  offend  against 
any  of  their  inherited  prejudices. 

"  That  attitude  which  Lowell  described  as  '  a 
certain  condescension  in  foreigners'  is  not  con- 
fined to  any  one  nation.  It  seems  to  be  the  most 
natural  thing  in  the  world  for  the  foreigner  as 
foreigner.  When  a  person  leaves  his  home  and 
becomes,  for  the  time  being,  a  foreigner,  he  is 
likely,  unless  he  has  had  the  benefit  of  a  school 
like  ours,  to  retain  his  home  standards  of  judg- 
ment. He  passes  rather  severe  verdicts  on  what 
he  sees,  and  imagines  that  he  renders  them  agree- 
able by  expressing  them  in  the  most  conciliatory 
tones.  Perhaps  he  even  tries  to  keep  his  opinions 
to  himself.  He  does  n't  say  anything,  but  he  does 
a  lot  of  thinking.  He  wouldn't  for  the  world 
have  the  people  among  whom  he  is  moving  know 
how  inferior,  in  certain  respects,  he  thinks  them. 
Usually  they  are  clever  enough  to  find  out  for 
themselves. 

"  You  see  the  same  thing  among  dogs.  You 


36  POLITE   UNLEARNING 

take  your  little  dog  for  a  walk  in  a  strange  part 
of  the  town.  Before  starting  on  your  travels  you 
have  admonished  him,  and  he  is  on  his  good  be- 
havior. He  trots  along  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
'  saying  nothing  to  nobody.'  To  the  obtuse  hu- 
man observation  he  is  a  model  of  propriety ;  but 
to  the  more  acute  canine  sensibility  there  is  some- 
thing in  the  glint  of  his  eye  or  the  crook  of  his 
tail  that  is  most  offensive.  The  sudden  alterca- 
tions that  seem  to  come  like  bolts  out  of  the  clear 
sky  must  have  some  reason.  I  am  sure  that  the 
curs  that  leave  the  sweet  security  of  their  own 
dooryards  to  do  battle  do  so  because  they  have 
detected  a  certain  condescension  in  this  foreigner. 
Something  in  his  bearing  has  emphasized  the 
fact  that  he  is  not  of  their  kind ;  and  that  he  is 
mighty  glad  of  it." 

"  Your  remarks,"  I  said,  interrupting  the  Prin- 
cipal, "  about  the  way  people  carry  their  home- 
bred opinions  about  with  them  reminds  me  of 
a  dear  old  lady  I  once  knew  in  the  Mississippi 
Valley.  She  went  to  London  to  attend  the  Queen's 
Jubilee.  On  her  return  we  asked  her  to  describe 
the  pageant.  It  seemed  that  the  Queen  and  all 
the  imperial  pomp  made  very  little  impression  on 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  37 

her  mind,  she  had  been  so  interested  in  herself. 
She  told  how,  at  considerable  expense,  she  had  se- 
cured a  good  seat. 

" '  Then  I  looked  down  and  saw  a  ragged  little 
boy.  I  called  him  to  come  up  with  me,  and  I 
wrapped  him  in  an  American  flag  which  I  al- 
ways take  with  me.  And  there  I  sat  all  day, 
**  The  Genius  of  America  protecting  the  British 
Poor."'  It  was  a  beautiful  symbolic  act,  but  I 
fear  it  may  have  been  misinterpreted." 

"  I  see  you  get  the  point,"  said  the  Principal. 
"  Now  we  may  come  back  to  the  School  of  Polite 
Unlearning.  Its  aim  is  to  rid  the  foreigner  in  as 
short  a  time  as  possible  of  the  preconceived  no- 
tions of  his  own  superiority.  These  notions  if  left 
unchecked  would  have  prevented  his  getting  any 
good  of  his  travels,  as  well  as  making  him  more 
or  less  of  a  nuisance  to  the  people  among  whom 
he  happened  to  be.  We  intend  to  enlarge  our 
institution  gradually  until  we  have  branches  in 
all  the  great  capitals.  We  will  teach  Frenchmen 
that  their  ideas  of  Germany  are  all  wrong,  and 
eventually  we  may  solve  the  Eastern  question  by 
convincing  the  Russians,  Bulgarians,  Macedo- 
nians, Servians,  Turks,  and  others,  that   they  do 


38  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

not  really  know  so  much  to  each  other's  discredit 
as  they  have  for  centuries  been  led  to  suppose. 

"At  the  present  we  are  confining  our  atten- 
tion to  improving  the  relations  between  the  Brit- 
ish and  the  Americans.  That  two  nations  with  a 
common  language  and  literature  should  heartily 
like  each  other  seems  eminently  desirable.  Do  we 
not  belong  to  the  same  reading  club  ?  But  what 
avail  these  literary  communings  so  long  as  thou- 
sands of  persons  are  annually  let  loose  in  the 
territories  of  each  nation  disseminating  misun- 
derstandings of  the  most  irritating  character  ? 

"  The  customs  regulations  might  do  something. 
The  United  States  has  already  adopted  the  pol- 
icy of  forbidding  the  importation  on  regular  lines 
of  steamships  of  certain  ideas.  On  entering  an 
American  port  the  passenger  is  asked  whether  he 
has  in  his  possession  any  anarchistic  opinions. 
If  he  makes  the  declaration  in  due  form,  he  is 
immediately  deported.  This  has  had  an  excellent 
effect  in  keeping  out  anarchists  whose  veracity  is 
above  the  normal ;  though  for  those  of  the  baser 
sort  there  is  a  great  opportunity  for  smuggling. 

"  In  like  manner  we  might  have  the  customs 
officers  anticipate  the  newspaper  reporters,  and 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  39 

ask  each  foreigner  before  landing  what  he  thinks 
of  the  country.  If  he  reveals  a  set  of  opinions  that 
are  not  likely  to  be  modified  by  further  experi- 
ence, he  might  be  sent  back  at  the  expense  of  the 
steamship  company.  All  this  however  is  of  purely 
academic  interest.  For  the  present,  we  must  trust 
to  voluntary  action.  If  the  visitor  is  wise  he  will 
welcome  any  aid  in  getting  rid  of  the  opinions 
which  stand  in  the  way  of  his  pleasure  and  profit. 
Our  school  attempts  to  minister  to  this  need. 
Here,  for  example,  is  a  middle-aged  Englishman 
who  is  contemplating  a  visit  to  America.  He  has 
a  number  of  ideas  in  regard  to  what  he  calls  '  the 
States,'  and  he  is  much  attached  to  those  ideas. 
He  has  not  had  occasion  clearly  to  differentiate 
'  the  States '  from  '  the  colonies ' ;  they  are  all 
alike  a  long  way  off.  He  thinks  of  the  States  as 
British  colonies  that  got  themselves  detached  a 
long  time  ago  from  the  apron-strings  of  the  mother 
country.  Since  then  they  have  been  going  to  the 
dogs  more  or  less  without  knowing  it.  They 
have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  trusts  and  dissenters. 
They  have  taken  to  over-educating  the  lower 
classes  and  under-educating  the  upper  classes,  till 
you  can't  tell  which  is  which.  In  their  use  of  the 


40  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

English  language  liberty  has  degenerated  into 
license,  as  it  always  does  where  you  have  no  lei- 
sure class  that  has  time  to  speak  correctly.  Their 
pronunciation  is  utterly  barbarous,  and  now  they 
are  endeavoring  to  conceal  their  offenses  by  get- 
ting us  to  spell  the  language  as  they  pronounce 
it.  They  are  always  talking  about  the  dollar, which 
is  a  very  different  thing  from  our  silent  respect  for 
shillings  and  pence.  Their  children  are  intoler- 
able, owing  to  their  precocious  imitation  of  the 
manners  of  their  elders.  While  boastful  of  their 
liberty  they  are  curiously  submissive  to  tyranny, 
and  if  their  newspapers  are  to  be  believed,  they 
universally  cower  in  the  presence  of  a  janitor.  In 
their  public  conveyances  they  hang  to  straps 
and  gasp  for  air  in  a  manner  pitiable  to  behold. 
All  these  tortures  they  endure  with  stoical  forti- 
tude, which  they  have  learned  through  their  long 
intercourse  with  the  Red  Indians. 

"  He  is  aware  that  in  the  States  he  will  hear  a 
deal  of  '  tall  talk ' ;  this  he  is  prepared  to  dis- 
count. A  very  safe  rule  to  observe  is  not  to  be- 
lieve anything  that  sounds  large. 

*'  The  American  business  men,  he  understands, 
have  no  interests  whatever  except  in  money-get- 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  41 

ting.  "  They  are  prodigiously  active,  but  their  ac- 
tivity is  providentially  limited  by  dyspepsia  and 
nervous  prostration.  He  is  inclined  to  attribute 
the  physical  break-down  of  the  race  to  the  uni- 
versal consumption  of  Chicago  tinned  meats. 

"On  the  whole,  however,  he  has  a  friendly 
feeling  toward  the  people  of  the  States.  They  are 
doing  as  well  as  could  be  expected  of  such  peo- 
ple, under  the  circumstances.  They  have  already, 
in  their  immature  civilization,  produced  some 
men  whose  names  are  household  words — there 
was  Artemus  Ward  and  Fenimore  Cooper  and 
Mark  Twain  and  Buffalo  Bill.  This  proves  that, 
after  all,  blood  is  thicker  than  water. 

"  He  starts  on  his  travels  very  much  as  the 
elder  brother  in  the  parable  might  have  done  had 
he  thought  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  prodigal  in  the 
far  country.  After  all,  the  lad  came  of  good  stock, 
even  though  he  did  show  poor  judgment  in  go- 
ing so  far  off.  He  had  heard  a  good  deal  about 
his  adventures,  though  he  didn't  believe  half 
of  it.  It  might  be  interesting  to  run  over  and  see 
for  himself  whether  the  report  about  those  husks 
had  not  been  exaggerated. 

"Now  is  it  safe  to  allow  such  a  person  to  go 


42  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

about  in  a  friendly  country,  unattended?  'One 
sinner  destroyeth  much  good,'  and  one  such  trav- 
eler destroyeth  much  international  good  feeling. 
After  three  months  he  will  have  returned  having 
every  one  of  his  opinions  confirmed  by  a  dozen 
instances.  And  he  will  have  left  behind  him  a 
score  or  more  Americans  confirmed  in  their  opin- 
ion as  to  what  a  typical  Britisher  is  like. 

"  How  much  better  for  him  to  enter  our  school 
before  engaging  his  passage  westward.  Here,  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  comforts  of  home,  he  could 
begin  the  painful  but  necessary  process  of  un- 
learning. Each  day  we  would  examine  him  and 
find  out  his  fixed  opinion  and  flatly  contradict  it. 
He  would  lose  his  temper,  and  become  grumpy 
and  sarcastic,  and  threaten  to  write  to  the  news- 
paper. But  this  would  hurt  nobody's  feelings,  for 
all  the  teachers  and  attendants  in  the  institution 
are  immune. 

"  Our  object  is  a  simple  one :  to  rid  him  of  the 
opinion  that  there  is  one  right  way  of  doing  things, 
and  that  all  other  ways  are  wrong.  We  want  to 
teach  him  to  be  content  to  say  simply  that  the 
other  ways  are  different.  When  he  has  learned 
rather  to  like  the  differences,  and  to  be  interested 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  43 

in  finding  out  why  they  are  as  they  are,  we  give 
him  a  diploma. 

"A  great  deal  of  our  time  is  spent  over  the  bare 
rudiments.  You  may  have  noticed  as  you  came 
in,  in  the  little  class-room  to  the  left,  a  gentleman 
unwillingly  engaged  in  studying  a  large  wall-map 
of  Oklahoma.  He  is  an  Oxford  man  who  makes 
his  living  writing  for  the  reviews.  He  lately  ex- 
pressed the  intention  of  visiting  America.  His 
friends  felt  that  he  was  not  in  a  fit  state,  and  ad- 
vised him  to  take  a  short  course  in  our  school 
simply  as  a  precautionary  measure.  You  have  no 
idea  how  hard  it  is  for  him  to  unlearn,  he  had 
learned  everything  so  thoroughly.  We  have  had 
to  put  him  in  a  class  by  himself  in  elementary 
geography.  We  found  that  he  had  a  most  inade- 
quate idea  of  the  extent  of  the  American  Union, 
and  had  always  looked  upon  the  States  as  corre- 
sponding to  the  English  counties.  This  of  itself 
would  have  been  no  detriment  to  him  if  his  geo- 
graphical ideas  had  been  held  only  as  a  part  of 
the  equipment  of  a  modest  ignorance.  It  would 
have  endeared  him  to  his  American  friends,  who 
would  have  been  only  too  happy  to  set  him 
right.    But  unfortunately  he  is  not  the  kind  of 


44  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

man  who  can  be  set  right  with  impunity.  When 
any  one  would  tell  him  the  distance  from  New 
York  to  San  Francisco,  it  would  not  make  the 
slightest  impression  on  his  mind.  He  would  set 
it  down  as  a  piece  of  American  brag.  We  have 
found  that  the  best  way  is  to  give  him  set  tasks. 
We  have  dissected  maps  of  Europe  and  America 
drawn  to  the  same  scale,  and  we  make  him  put 
the  map  of  Great  Britain  into  the  map  of  Texas 
and  calculate  the  marginal  area.  Then  we  have 
memory  work,  having  him  from  time  to  time  re- 
peat the  length  of  the  Missouri-Mississippi,  and 
the  number  of  vessels  passing  every  year  through 
the  Detroit  River.  We  set  before  him  the  latest 
railway  map  of  the  United  States  and  ask  him  to 
tell  at  sight  which  railways  belong  to  which  big 
syndicate,  and  since  when?  When  he  asks  what 
difference  it  makes,  we  rebuke  his  impertinence, 
and  keep  him  after  school. 

"  We  give  him  daily  themes  to  write.  For  ex- 
ample we  present  this  text  from  Sam  Slick: 
'  They  are  strange  folks,  them  English.  On  par- 
ticulars they  know  more  than  any  people ;  but 
on  generals  they  are  as  ignorant  as  owls.  The 
way  they  don't  know  some  things  is  beautiful* 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  45 

"  What  national  characteristics  did  Mr.  Sam- 
uel Slick  of  Slickville,  Connecticut,  have  in  mind 
when  he  made  these  animadversions  ?  Is  the  dis- 
like for  general  ideas  really  necessary  to  the  sta- 
bility of  the  British  Constitution  ^  Is  Mr.  Slick's 
criticism  sufficiently  answered  by  pointing  out  the 
fact  that  it  is  couched  in  language  that  seriously 
conflicts  with  the  accepted  rules  of  English  gram- 
mar? 

"  On  another  occasion  I  gave  him  these  lines 
from  one  of  our  own  poets  :  — 

The  House  of  Peers  throughout  the  war 
Did  nothing  in  particular. 
And  did  it  very  well. 

*  Compare  this  admirable  record  of  the  finished 
work  of  our  Upper  House  with  the  proceedings  of 
a  session  of  the  Missouri  Legislature,  which  did  a 
lot  of  highly  important  and  necessary  work,  and 
did  it  all  very  badly.  Give  your  opinion  as  to  the 
comparative  value  of  the  two  legislative  bodies. 
Indicate  on  the  margin  whether  you  consider  a 
person  who  holds  the  opposite  opinion  to  be  be- 
neath your  contempt,  or  just  w^orthy  of  it  ?  ' 

"  Yesterday  I  gave  him  an  item  from  the 
sporting  columns  of  a  San  Francisco  newspaper. 


46  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

After  describing  the  strenuous  physical  exercises 
of  a  distinguished  pugilist,  the  writer  adds  : 
'O'Brien  is  diligently  using  his  leisure  time  in 
study.  It  is  his  intention  when  retiring  from  the 
ring  to  devote  himself  exclusively  to  literary  pur- 
suits. To  this  end  he  has  engaged  a  tutor  and 
under  his  direction  is  reading  Gibbon's  "  Decline 
and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,"  Dante,  and  Ho- 
mer.' 

" '  Use  this  paragraph  as  a  text  for  a  sarcastic 
article  on  the  absurdities  of  popular  education 
and  the  chaotic  condition  of  a  society  in  which 
anybody  feels  competent  to  study  anything  he 
has  a  mind  to.  After  having  done  this  to  your  own 
satisfaction  look  at  the  subject  from  another  point 
of  view.  Granted  that  you,  with  your  excellent 
classical  education,  are  more  capable  of  appre- 
ciating Homer,  ask  which  one  would  Homer  be 
more  likely  to  appreciate,  you  or  O'Brien  *?  ' 

"  We  are  now  making  use  of  the  phonograph, 
which  repeats  for  him  choice  extracts  from  Amer- 
ican newspapers  and  magazines  devoted  to  mak- 
ing the  world  familiar  with  the  growth  of  the 
country.  This  familiarizes  him,  through  the  ear, 
with  certain  uncongenial  habits  of  thought." 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  47 

The  Principal  led  me  for  a  moment  into  the 
entry,  and  looking  through  the  door  we  saw  the 
Oxford  man  in  a  dejected  attitude  listening  to  the 
phonograph,  which  was  monotonously  informing 
him  of  the  glories  of  Chicago  and  the  exact  floor- 
space  of  Marshall  Field's  store. 

"  He  will  have  to  hear  these  things  sometime," 
said  the  Principal,  on  returning  to  his  own  room, 
"  and  he  might  as  well  do  so  now.  I  fear,  how- 
ever, I  may  have  been  too  severe  in  the  training, 
and  that  he  may  be  going  stale.  He  told  me  this 
morning  that  perhaps  he  might  give  up  his  Amer- 
ican trip  and  take  a  little  run  up  to  Bibury  instead. 

"  The  real  difficulties  are  always  those  that  lie 
in  the  background  of  the  mind  and  therefore  are 
hard  to  get  at.  The  traveler  insists  on  putting 
everything  into  the  same  categories  he  uses  at 
home,  and  sometimes  they  won't  fit.  English- 
men, for  example,  have  got  used  to  dividing 
themselves  into  three  distinct  classes  ;  and  when 
they  come  to  a  community  where  these  divisions 
are  not  obvious  they  regard  it  with  suspicion,  as 
they  would  an  egg  in  which  the  distinction  be- 
tween the  white  and  the  yellow  is  not  as  clearly 
marked  as  in  the  days  of  its  first  innocency. 


48  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

"I  have  been  reading  the  book  of  a  clever 
writer  who  discourses  on  American  characteristics. 
He  found  in  America  no  recognized  upper  class 
and  no  plainly  marked  lower  class,  and  so  he 
drew  the  conclusion  that  all  Americans  belong  to 
the  middle  class.  Then  he  attributed  to  them  all 
the  characteristics  which  middle-class  Englishmen 
of  a  literary  turn  of  mind  are  always  attributing 
to  their  own  class.  But  this  is  fallacious.  In  my 
youth  we  used  to  amuse  ourselves  by  beheading 
words.  We  would  ruthlessly  behead  a  word  and 
then  curtail  it.  But  when  the  middle  letters  were 
relieved  of  their  terminal  incumbrances  and  set 
up  as  an  independent  word,  that  word  had  a 
meaning  of  its  own.  My  own  opinion  is  that  we 
middle-class  Englishmen  are  pretty  fine  fellows, 
and  that  we  are  in  most  respects  superior  to  our 
betters ;  but  if  we  had  n't  one  class  to  look  up 
to  and  another  to  look  down  on,  I  doubt  whether 
we  should  feel  middle-class  at  all.  We  should 
feel,  as  do  our  American  brethren,  that  we  are 
the  whole  show. 

*'  A  most  difficult  matter  is  to  bring  my  pupils 
to  a  sympathetic  appreciation  of  American  opti- 
mism. It  goes  against  all  their  preconceived  no- 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  49 

tions  of  the  fitness  of  things.  The  airy  way  in 
which  an  American  will  mention  the  most  dis- 
tressing present  moral  conditions  and  assure  you 
that  everything  is  as  bad  as  it  can  be,  and  is  com- 
ing out  all  right,  irritates  them.  It  seems  to  argue 
a  state  of  ethical  inconsequence.  '  You  can't  pin 
these  fellows  down  to  hard  facts,'  a  pupil  com- 
plained to  me,  '  the  pin  won't  hold.' 

" '  That 's  just  it,'  I  answered,  '  the  facts  these 
people  are  dealing  with  are  not  hard,  they  are 
fluid.  In  the  old  world  social  facts  are  hard,  they 
have  been  solidified  by  the  pressure  of  popula- 
tion exerted  for  generations.  In  the  vast  spaces  of 
America  this  pressure  has  as  yet  been  little  felt. 
If  you  don't  like  the  facts  that  are  presented  to 
you,  you  need  not  take  the  disappointment  seri- 
ously, for  you  are  promised  a  new  set  of  facts 
while  you  wait.  And  the  remarkable  thing  is  that 
about  half  the  time  the  promise  is  fulfilled.  The 
facts  are  flowing.  You  can't  nail  them ;  the  best 
thing  you  can  do  is  to  float  on  them.  The  Amer- 
ican is  not  a  worshiper  of  things  as  they  are,  his 
curiosity  is  aroused  by  the  things  that  are  going 
to  be.' 

"We  try  to  make  our  students,   through  a 


JO  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

variety  of  illustrations  of  rapid  change,  and  that 
mostly  in  the  right  direction,  see  that  there  is 
some  justification  for  the  American  expectation 
that  when  things  are  pretty  bad  they  are  about  to 
be  better.  It  is  not  altogether  to  his  discredit  that 
even  his  moral  indignation  at  obvious  abuses 
takes  a  characteristically  cheerful  and  even  self- 
congratulatory  tone.  'Things  are  looking  up 
morally,'  he  says,  '  when  I  can  get  so  righteously 
indignant  as  all  this.' 

"  I  endeavor  to  get  my  pupils  to  unlearn  their 
natural  repugnance  to  the  American  quality  of 
self-assertiveness.  Sometimes  I  try  the  kinder- 
garten method.  Most  of  them  are  interested  in 
pop-corn,  which  they  have  heard  is  the  chief  di- 
version of  rural  America.  To  shake  a  corn-popper 
over  a  glowing  bed  of  coals  is  a  new  experience. 
When  the  miniature  bombardment  is  at  its  height 
I  begin  to  moralize. 

" '  That  is  what  you  will  see  over  in  America, 
and  I  hope  you  will  like  it.  Think  of  the  states 
in  the  Mississippi  Valley  as  a  huge  corn-popper. 
Into  the  popper  are  poured  millions  of  grains  of 
ordinary  humanity.  They  don't  take  very  much 
room,  for  they  have  grown  close  together.  They 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  51 

are  not  much  to  look  at.  They  are  shaken  till 
they  are  pretty  evenly  distributed  and  each  one 
feels  the  genial  warmth  of  a  general  prosperity. 
Then  they  begin  to  expand,  not  in  a  quiet  fashion 
but  in  a  series  of  small  explosions,  each  individual 
popping  out  of  his  shell  and  surprised  that  he 
takes  up  so  much  room  in  the  world.  He  very 
naturally  thinks  he 's  the  biggest  thing  out. 

"  'If  you  are  a  cross-grained  foreigner  you  may 
look  at  the  process  with  critical  disfavor.  You 
may  say  that  there  is  n't  any  more  substance  in  it 
than  there  was  before  and  that  they  ought  to 
have  remained  in  the  original  envelope  which 
Providence  had  provided  for  them.  You  may 
look  upon  it  as  highly  dangerous,  and  say  that  if 
they  keep  on  popping  like  that  they  will  burst 
the  popper.  Or  you  may  end  the  conversation  by 
remarking  that,  for  your  own  part,  you  don't  like 
pop-corn,  anyway.  But  if  you  are  open  to  con- 
viction we  hope  to  bring  you  to  a  better  frame  of 
mind.'" 

*'  That  is  all  very  interesting,"  I  said,  "  to  get 
your  pupils  to  unlearn  their  distaste  for  American 
self-assertiveness.  I  hope  you  will  go  farther  and 
get  them  to  unlearn  the  notion  that  all  Americans 


52  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

are  self-assertive.  I  am  sure  that  many  of  my 
countrymen  possess  the  pearl  of  humility." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Principal, "  I  have  no  doubt  of 
it.  By  the  way,  there  is  a  singular  thing  about 
pearls,  which  I  believe  has  never  been  explained. 
It  is  said  that  the  best  way  to  preserve  their  lustre 
is  to  wear  them  occasionally." 

I  learned  that  the  American  students  had 
not  begun  to  drift  in,  though  my  arrival  had 
strengthened  the  hope  that  such  accidents  might 
happen.  Of  course  the  tourist  who  had  only  a 
few  days  to  spend  in  the  country  could  hardly 
be  expected  to  give  up  part  of  his  holidays  for 
the  sake  of  getting  rid  of  a  few  long-cherished 
notions  which  had  no  value  except  to  their  owner. 
But  the  needs  of  those  who  were  anticipating  a 
more  prolonged  stay  could  be  provided  for. 

"  I  anticipate  great  pleasure,"  said  the  Princi- 
pal, "  from  my  American  pupils,  when  once  they 
find  their  way  here,  for  I  am  told  that  they  un- 
learn easily.  They  will  also  have  the  great  ad- 
vantage of  being  removed  from  their  customary 
environment,  so  that  their  erroneous  opinions 
may  be  more  readily  eradicated. 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  53 

"  A  matter  to  which  we  shall  give  some  atten- 
tion is  the  American's  notion  that  the  stay-at- 
home  Englishman's  ignorance  of  things  American 
arises  from  superciliousness.  When  his  host,  in 
order  to  put  him  at  his  ease,  makes  a  few  vague 
remarks  about  the  Great  Republic  and  then  lets 
the  subject  drop,  it  seems  to  indicate  an  affecta- 
tion of  haughty  indifference.  We  shall  endeavor 
to  correct  this  impression  and  to  show  that  the 
ignorance  is  not  affected  but  is  quite  real.  When 
the  pupil  feels  that  he  has  a  grievance  because  he 
has  been  asked  whether  Philadelphia  is  on  the 
right  or  left  bank  of  the  Mississippi  River,  we 
shall  apply  a  counter-irritant. 

" '  Brazil,'  we  shall  say,  '  is  a  great  and  glorious 
country.  Indicate  in  a  pleasant  conversational 
way  what  you  know  about  it,  avoiding  the  ap- 
pearance of  having  looked  it  up,  for  the  occasion, 
in  the  Encyclopaedia.  After  you  have  made  a 
few  remarks  about  Rio,  connected  in  your  mind 
with  coffee  and  yellow  fever,  lead  the  conversa- 
tion in  a  sprightly  fashion  to  some  of  the  other 
great  cities.  In  alluding  to  some  of  the  states  of 
Brazil,  show  that  you  greatly  admire  them,  and 
tactfully  conceal  the  fact  that  you  are  not  very 


j4  POLITE   UNLEARNING 

clear  in  your  mind  as  to  where  they  are.  In  men- 
tioning the  Amazon  indicate  that  you  have  some 
ideas  about  it  besides  those  derived  in  your  child- 
hood from  Mayne  Reid's  "  Afloat  in  the  Forest." 
When  the  conversation  turns  upon  the  great 
statesmen  and  men  of  letters  of  Brazil,  take  your 
part  with  sympathetic  intelligence.  When,  provi- 
dentially, the  subject  is  changed,  do  not  appear  to 
be  too  much  relieved.' 

"After  a  few  such  exercises  the  pupil  will  be 
introduced  to  an  Englishman  who  knows  as  much 
about  the  United  States  as  he  does  about  South 
America.  A  fellow  feeling  will  make  them  won- 
drous kind. 

"  I  shall  prepare  a  short  course  of  lectures  on 
English  Reserve  for  the  benefit  of  pupils  from 
the  great  West  who  complain  because  we  do  not 
open  our  hearts  to  strangers  before  we  have  learned 
their  names.  It  seems  to  them  undemocratic  that 
cordiality  of  manner  should  be  dependent  on  the 
mere  accident  of  being  acquainted.  I  suppose 
that  they  are  right,  and  that  if  we  were  more 
large-minded  we  should  consider  nothing  human 
as  foreign  to  us.  But  we  are  not  so  happily  con- 
stituted. Something  more  than  mere  humanity  is 


POLITE   UNLEARNING  55 

needed  to  start  the  genial  currents  of  our  nature. 
Our  pump  must  be  *  primed'  with  something  in 
the  way  of  an  introduction. 

"In  the  Far  West,  I  understand,  you  have  a 
system  of  agriculture  known  as  '  dry-farming.' 
The  plan  is  to  keep  the  surface  pulverized  so  that 
the  moisture  stored  beneath  may  be  preserved  for 
the  feeding  roots.  We  English  have  for  gen- 
erations cultivated  our  friendships  by  a  similar 
method.  The  non-conducting  surface  of  our  man- 
ner keeps  the  deeper  feelings  from  evaporating. 
There  is,  we  think,  a  good  deal  to  be  said  in  be- 
half of  this  system  of  dry-farming. 

"A  much  more  delicate  subject  for  unlearn- 
ing is  the  American's  curious  notion  about  the 
Englishman's  attitude  toward  humor.  Ever  since 
Artemus  Ward  amused  the  citizens  of  London 
by  giving  notice  that  he  would  call  upon  them 
at  their  residences  in  order  to  explain  his  jokes, 
his  countrymen  have  assumed  a  patronizing  air. 
When  an  American  ventures  on  a  pleasantry,  he 
tells  the  story  simply,  as  to  a  little  child;  he 
has  heard  that  an  Englishman  finds  difficulties 
in  such  matters.  He  somewhat  officiously  offers 
'  first  aid.'  AH  this  is  strange  when  one  considers 


^6  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

how  much  our  transatlantic  brethren  have  been 
indebted  to  the  glorious  company  of  English 
humorists,  from  Chaucer  down.  One  is  reminded 
of  George  Eliot's  '  Legend  of  Jubal.'  Jubal,  '  the 
father  of  all  such  as  handle  the  organ  and  pipe  * 
and  other  instruments  of  music,  returned  from  a 
long  journey  to  find  the  people  whom  he  had 
blessed  enjoying  a  musical  festival.  He  was  not 
recognized  by  the  new  generation,  and  when  he 
attempted  to  join  in  the  jubilation  the  musicians 
turned  upon  him  and '  beat  him  with  their  flutes.' " 

"  I  think  we  appreciate  our  literary  indebted- 
ness," I  interrupted,  "though  our  gratitude  does 
not  always  take  the  form  of  a  lively  anticipation 
of  favors  to  come.  It  seems  to  be  the  old  story 
of  forgetting  our  philosophy  and  remembering 
only  our  anecdotes.  Now,  I  can  tell  you  an  an- 
ecdote which  will  illustrate  what  we  mean." 

"  It  is  not  necessary,"  said  the  Principal ;  "  we 
have  made  a  large  collection  of  them,  and  they 
are  all  essentially  the  same.  The  American  tells 
a  story  which  is  received  by  his  respectable 
British  friend  with  solemn  attention  worthy  of 
a  better  cause.  Then,  when  the  legal  time  for 
laughter  has  expired  according  to  the  statutes  of 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  57 

limitation,  he  acknowledges  his  liability  and  pays 
his  debt  of  merriment,  with  deferred  interest. 
The  American  argues  that  his  mental  processes, 
though  sure,  are  somewhat  slow. 

"But  if  we  had  Courts  of  Humor  as  in  the 
days  of  chivalry  they  had  Courts  of  Love,  I 
should  like  to  present  these  cases  for  adjudication. 
I  should  argue  that  the  anecdotes  do  not  prove 
a  deficiency  in  humor  so  much  as  a  higher 
standard  of  rectitude.  The  Englishman  is  not 
less  quick  than  the  American  to  see  a  point,  but 
when  he  does  not  see  it  he  is  less  likely  to  con- 
ceal the  fact.  If  he  suspects  that  there  is  a  poor 
little  joke  concealed  somewhere,  he  does  not  find 
it  in  his  heart  to  allow  it  to  perish  of  neglect,  but 
returns  to  it  as  a  friendly  visitor,  to  see  what  he 
can  do  for  it." 

"  I  shall  endeavor,"  said  the  Principal,  "  to  get 
them,  if  not  to  unlearn,  at  least  to  moderate  the 
*01d  Home'  idea.  Every  American,  no  matter 
where  his  family  originated,  likes  to  think  of 
England  as  the  Old  Home.  It  satisfies  his  his- 
toric sense  and  gives  him  the  feeling  that  he  is 
revisiting  the  green  graves  of  his  sires. 


58  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

"Once  arrived  at  the  Old  Home  he  goes 
about  in  search  of  the  quaint  and  venerable.  His 
head  is  chock-full  of  more  or  less  vague  histori- 
cal and  literary  allusions  which  he  is  anxious  to 
attach  to  their  proper  localities.  He  is  on  the 
lookout  for  the  people  he  has  read  about.  He 
would  not  be  surprised  to  meet  FalstafF  or  Mr. 
Pickwick  when  he  turns  the  corner.  I  was  my- 
self taken  for  Mr.  Pickwick  once,  and  I  didn't 
like  it. 

"  In  the  mean  time  the  Twentieth-Century  Eng- 
land, with  its  rapidly  growing  cities,  its  shifting 
population,  its  radical  democracy,  its  socialistic 
experiments,  its  model  tenements,  its  new  uni- 
versities, its  ferment  of  fresh  thought,  escapes  his 
notice. 

" '  Fine  country  this,'  he  says, '  to  rest  in:  beau- 
tiful ruins,  well-kept  lawns,  good  old  customs 
unchanged  for  a  thousand  years.  Everything  is 
kept  up  just  as  it  used  to  be.  I  like  to  see  the 
conservative  ways;  makes  you  realize  how  your 
forefathers  felt.  I  tell  you  it  touches  a  soft  spot 
in  your  heart  to  come  back  to  the  Old  Home.' 

"  To  the  alert,  public-spirited,  intensely  mod- 
ern Englishman  who  is  eager  to  show  him  the 


POLITE   UNLEARNING  59 

latest  thing  in  municipal  housekeeping,  this  is 
disconcerting." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "I  think  I  understand.  If  I 
were  a  prosperous  planter  away  down  on  the 
Suwanee  River,  and  were  anxious  to  show  my 
visitor  the  brand-new  mansion  I  had  built  with 
the  proceeds  of  my  last  year's  cotton  crop,  I 
should  object  to  his  striking  a  sentimental  atti- 
tude and  warbling  the  ditty  about  the  'old  folks 
at  home.'  I  should  especially  object  if  he  mis- 
took me  for  one  of  the  old  folks." 

"  That  is  the  trouble,"  said  the  Principal,  "with 
living  in  a  place  that  has  become  a  household 
word.  The  traveling  public  seems  like  a  many- 
headed  monster  with  only  one  idea.  When  the 
idea  is  a  trivial  one  and  keeps  popping  up  con- 
tinually, it  becomes  tiresome.  There  for  instance 
is  Banbury,  a  thriving  market  town.  The  present 
inhabitants  are  eminently  progressive,  and  the 
town  bears  all  the  evidences  of  prosperity.  But 
when  the  train  draws  up  in  the  summer,  one  may 
hear  girlish  American  voices  exclaiming,  '  How 
fascinating!  Isn't  it  too  cunning  for  anything! 
Ride  a  cock-horse.'  And  they  look  out  upon  the 
Banbury  people  as  if  they  belonged  to  an  imme- 
morial nursery. 


6o  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

"  The  Americans  ignore  the  political  divisions 
of  the  country,  and  acknowledge  only  the  divi- 
sions into  the  Scott  country,  the  Burns  country, 
the  Wordsworth  country,  the  Shakespeare  coun- 
try, the  Dickens  country,  and  the  Lorna  Doone 
country.  We  sometimes  wonder  where  they  think 
we  come  in." 

"  Still,"  I  said,  "  we  must  remember  that  though 
it  may  be  tiresome  to  the  inhabitants  to  have  a 
few  associations  recurring  continually,  a  great 
part  of  the  pleasure  of  travel  consists  in  compar- 
ing our  previous  impressions  with  what  we  see. 
There  was  that  most  delightful  of  English  way- 
farers, George  Borrow ;  he  was  doing  that  all  the 
time. 

"  *  On  arriving  at  Chester,'  he  says,  '  at  which 
place  we  intended  to  spend  two  or  three  days, 
we  put  up  at  an  old-fashioned  inn  in  Northgate 
Street  to  which  we  had  been  recommended.  My 
wife  and  daughter  ordered  tea  and  its  accom- 
paniments; and  I  ordered  ale  and  that  which 
should  always  accompany  it,  cheese.  "  The  ale  I 
shall  find  bad,"  said  I ;  "  Chester  ale  had  a  bad 
reputation  since  the  time  of  old  Sion  Tudor,  who 
made  a  first-rate  englyn'  about  it,  but  I  shall  have 


POLITE   UNLEARNING  6i 

a  treat  in  the  cheese;  Cheshire  cheese  has  always 
been  reckoned  excellent." ' 

"  To  his  great  delight  he  found  the  ale  as  bad 
as  it  was  in  the  days  of  Sion  Tudor,  and  there- 
fore he  hilariously  threw  it  out  of  the  window. 
Then  tasting  the  cheese,  he  found  the  cheese  bad 
also,  and  promptly  threw  that  after  the  ale. 
'  Well,'  he  said, '  if  I  have  been  deceived  in  the 
cheese,  at  any  rate  I  have  not  been  deceived  in 
the  ale,  which  I  expected  to  find  execrable. 
Patience !  I  shall  not  fall  into  a  passion,  more 
especially  as  there  are  things  I  can  fall  back 
upon.  Wife !  I  will  trouble  you  for  a  cup  of 
tea.  Henrietta!  have  the  kindness  to  cut  me  a 
slice  of  bread  and  butter.' 

"  Now  it  is  evident  that  Borrow  had  two  dis- 
tinct pleasures  in  his  visit  to  Chester.  The  ale 
was  as  bad  as  from  his  previous  reading  of  the 
Welsh  bards  he  had  been  led  to  suppose,  and 
the  cheese  was  worse.  The  pleasure  in  each  case 
came  from  the  fact  that  his  experience  had  re- 
acted upon  his  previous  ideas.  After  all,  this  is  a 
harmless  sort  of  pleasure." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Principal,  "  in  a  bluff,  whole- 
souled  Briton  like  Borrow,   there  could  be  no 


62  POLITE  UNLEARNING 

harm  in  throwing  the  ale  and  cheese  around,  just 
for  the  sake  of  auld  lang  syne;  but  it  is  different 
with  a  vulgar  rich  Am —  Pardon  me,  I  am  fall- 
ing into  the  bad  habits  of  my  pupils." 

"  I  take  no  offense,"  I  said ;  "  you  know  I  am 
not  rich." 

"  We  shall,"  he  said,  "  deal  tenderly  with  the 
literary  and  historical  treasures  which  our  pupils 
bring  with  them,  but  we  shall  endeavor  to  teach 
them  to  use  their  excellent  gifts  in  such  a  way  that 
the  Past  may  not  altogether  obscure  the  Present." 

"  Another  idea,"  said  the  Principal,  "  is  that  of 
'the  tight  little  island.'  It  is  a  term  that  the  Brit- 
ish themselves  delight  in;  but  it  should  be  re- 
membered that  diminutives,  while  very  endearing 
when  used  in  the  family  circle,  are  less  pleasing 
when  taken  up  by  strangers.  The  American  ex- 
pects to  find  the  British  quite  insular,  and  so  they 
are,  —  '  of  or  pertaining  to  an  island,  surrounded 
by  water,  opposed  to  continental.'  The  real  ques- 
tion is,  what  effect  has  being  surrounded  by 
water  upon  the  mind  ?  Is  water,  especially  when 
it  is  salt,  a  conductor  or  non-conductor  of  cosmo- 
politan sympathies?    The  dictionary  takes  the 


POLITE  UNLEARNING  63 

latter  view  and  goes  on  to  the  slurring  second- 
ary definition,  'characteristic  of  the  inhabitants 
of  islands,  hence,  narrow,  contracted/ 

*'  Why  'hence,  narrow,  contracted '  ?  It  would 
seem  as  if  the  dictionary-man  had  been  consort- 
ing with  land-lubbers  and  had  taken  their  point 
of  view.  One  would  suppose  from  his  reasoning 
that  the  sea  cut  one  off  from  communication  with 
the  rest  of  the  world,  while  prairies  and  moun- 
tains were  the  true  highways  of  nations.  This  is 
not  the  doctrine  of  the  Blue-water  school.  It  is 
based  on  the  recognition  of  the  broadening  effect 
of  an  insular  position.  There  is  no  place  so  easy 
to  get  at  or  to  get  away  from  as  an  island.  It 
makes  us  next-door  neighbors  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  especially  when  we  've  got  the  ships,  we  'vc 
got  the  men,  we  've  got  the  money  too.  It  is 
your  dweller  in  a  section  of  a  continent  who  is 
shut  in,  'hence,  narrow,  contracted.'  Your  islander 
knows  no  such  narrow  bounds  as  he  sings  his 
victorious  '  Song  of  the  Seven  Seas.'  If  this  be 
insularity  make  the  most  of  it ! " 

At  this  moment  the  door-bell  rang,  and  a  shy 
individual  appeared  whom  I  took  to  be  the  first 
American  student. 


THE   HUNDRED  WORST   BOOKS 


SOME  years  have  passed  since  Sir  John  Lub- 
bock offered  assistance  to  the  bewildered 
reader  by  sifting  the  world's  literature  and  select- 
ing the  Best  Books.  Since  then  many  lists  of  the 
Best  Books,  in  tens  and  multiples  of  ten,  have 
been  presented  to  the  public.  Enterprising  pub- 
lishers have  put  forth  sets  sold  by  subscription 
and  warranted  to  be  ornaments  to  any  library. 

I  am  not  in  a  position  to  know  whether  the 
Best  Books  when  organized  into  a  battalion  are 
more  resorted  to  than  before.  I  suspect  that,  like 
a  crack  regiment,  they  are  much  admired  by 
the  commonalty,  and  not  subjected  to  very  hard 
service. 

But  admirable  as  is  the  effort  to  mark  the  best, 
it  is  not  a  sufficient  method  of  charting  the  vast 
sea  of  literature.  The  lighthouse  is  not  placed  in 
the  middle  of  the  channel,  but  on  the  dangerous 
reef  The  mournful  bell-buoy  tells  the  mariner 
where  not  to  go.  For  purposes  of  instruction  in 


THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS    65 

literature,  the  reefs  and  shoals  should  be  properly 
marked.  It  seems  strange  that  those  who  are  in- 
terested in  the  study  of  literary  style  have  not 
given  more  attention  to  the  work  of  compiling 
lists  of  the  Hundred  Worst  Books. 

Here  is  a  fascinating  field  for  difference  of 
opinion ;  and  the  debates  can  be  carried  on  with- 
out acrimony.  There  is  something  unseemly  in 
the  controversies  over  the  comparative  merits  of 
Shakespeare  and  Bernard  Shaw,  especially  when, 
for  chronological  reasons,  Bernard  Shaw  must 
have  the  last  word.  It  is  diflferent  when  two  de- 
servedly obscure  writers  contend  amiably  for  the 
lowest  seat.  No  ill  feeling  can  be  provoked  when 
each  bows  to  the  other  and  says,  "  After  you." 

The  question,  what  constitutes  bad  writing, 
has  been  complicated  by  the  fact  that  teachers  of 
English  have  so  largely  confined  their  attention 
to  good,  or  at  least  to  mediocre,  writers.  When, 
therefore,  they  have  had  occasion  to  use  horrible 
examples,  they  have  generally  been  content  to 
point  out  the  occasional  slips  which  they  discover 
in  the  better  sort  of  books;  unless,  indeed,  they 
are  hard-hearted  enough  to  use  Freshman  exami- 
nation papers  as  clinical  materiaL 


66    THE   HUNDRED  WORST   BOOKS 

In  this  way  they  put  undue  emphasis  on  minor 
faults,  while  not  doing  justice  to  those  which  are 
fundamental.  For  reproof  and  instruction  there  is 
nothing  better  than  the  thorough  analysis  of  a 
book  which  has  no  redeeming  qualities  to  distract 
from  its  main  fault.  It  must  be  one  of  unim- 
aginativeness  all  compact.  There  should  be  a 
careful  anatomy  of  its  melancholy.  What  is  the 
secret  of  total  lack  of  charm  ?  How  is  it  that 
words  can  be  made  not  only  to  conceal  thought, 
but  also  to  stifle  all  natural  curiosity  concerning 
the  thought  that  might  be  concealed?  In  what 
fields  were  the  poppies  grown  from  which  this 
opiate  was  distilled  *? 

It  is  only  in  the  first-hand  study  of  consistently 
bad  writing  that  we  outgrow  the  schoolboy  point 
of  view :  that  bad  writing  consists  in  breaking  the 
rules,  and  good  writing  in  obeying  them.  At  first 
sight,  the  rules  of  rhetoric  seem  as  adamantine  as 
the  moral  law.  The  commandments  against  bar- 
barisms and  improprieties  are  uttered  with  a  stern 
menace.  Such  a  natural  locution  as  a  split  infini- 
tive evokes  the  thunders  of  the  law.  The  young 
writer  grows  timid,  seeing  that  he  is  liable  to  give 
offense  where  none  was  intended.  By  purifying 


THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS  67 

his  style  of  all  its  natural  qualities,  he  seeks 
through  self-abnegation  to  follow  the  counsels  of 
perfection  and  attain  to  "  clearness,  elegance,  and 
force." 

At  last  he  discovers,  with  a  sense  of  injustice, 
that  the  penalties  are  visited  only  on  those  who,  in 
good  faith,  are  trying,  though  unsuccessfully,  to 
obey  the  laws.  All  is  forgiven  one  who  trans- 
gresses willfully  and  deliberately. 

"  I  do  not  care  to  be  clear,"  cries  the  new  favor- 
ite; "you  will  notice  what  pains  I  take  to  be  ob- 
scure. As  for  elegance,  I  despise  it." 

"  Come  to  my  arms,  child  of  genius ! "  cries  the 
delighted  critic.  "Who  cares  for  clearness  and 
elegance  in  one  who  is  strong  enough  to  succeed 
without  them  ?  " 

The  painstaking  literary  workman  has  a  sense  of 
injustice  whenheobservesthatvirtue  is  notrewarded 
and  that  disobedience  is  praised.  Elsewhere  the 
good  person  is  one  who  does  what  he  is  told  to  do 
and  who  performs  the  work  that  is  expected  of 
him.  In  literature,  all  this  goes  for  nothing  when 
measured  against  a  bit  of  originality.  Now,  origi- 
nality consists  in  not  doing  what  is  expected. 
When  all  eyes  are  fixed  upon  the  target  the  trick 


68     THE   HUNDRED   WORST   BOOKS 

is  to  hit  something  else.  The  thoroughly  bad 
writer  is  one  who  in  three  hundred  and  fifty  pages 
tells  you  exactly  what  you  expected,  in  precisely 
the  way  you  expected  him  to  tell  it.  The  business- 
like fidelity  with  which  his  plan  is  carried  out 
renders  it  unnecessary  for  you  to  inspect  the  work. 
You  feel  that  you  can  trust  the  author  absolutely. 
A  glance  at  the  table  of  contents  is  sufficient ;  you 
know  that  it  will  be  carried  out.  You  can  ac- 
knowledge your  indebtedness  in  the  labor-saving 
formula  of  the  polite  tradesman,  "  Thanking  you 
in  advance  for  your  favor." 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  furnish  a  list  of  the 
Worst  Books.  I  do  not  think  it  would  be  within 
the  power  of  any  one  to  make  a  selection  that 
would  be  universally  accepted.  The  compilers  of 
the  lists  of  Best  Books  have  the  advantage  that 
they  are  by  well-known  authors  and  have  had 
the  judgment  of  successive  generations.  One  does 
not  need  to  have  a  really  comprehensive  know- 
ledge of  literature  to  express  a  preference  for  the 
historic  Milton  over  the  inglorious  Miltons,  who 
might  have  written  as  well,  but  who  unfortunately 
didn't. 

It  is  more  difficult  to  distinguish  the  worst 


THE  HUNDRED   WORST   BOOKS     69 

books.  Like  all  the  lower  organisms,  poor  books 
multiply  prodigiously,  though  the  total  number 
is  kept  down  by  a  corresponding  mortality.  Here, 
as  elsewhere,  "  the  destruction  of  the  poor  is  their 
poverty."  The  worst  books  sink  speedily  into  the 
depths  of  oblivion.  It  is  in  these  black  waters 
that  we  must  dredge  for  our  specimens. 

We  must  expect  to  take  fisherman's  luck.  It 
is  as  hard  for  some  things  to  be  forgotten  as  it  is 
for  others  to  be  remembered.  There,  for  example, 
was  that  sturdy  Elizabethan,  John  Marston,  who 
had  the  singular  taste  to  dedicate  his  poems  to 
Everlasting  Oblivion.  He  says:  — 

Let  others  pray 
Forever  their  fair  poems  flourish  may. 
But  as  for  me,  hungry  Oblivion 
Devour  me  quick,  accept  my  orison. 
My  earnest  prayers  which  do  importune  thee 
To  veil  both  me  and  my  rude  poesy. 

Instead  of  which,  a  new  edition  of  the  complete 
works  of  Marston  has  been  issued  within  a  few 
years. 

It  is  evident  that  no  two  lists  of  the  Hundred 
Worst  Books  can  be  alike.  There  can  be  no 
consensus  of  the  competent  in  regard  to  that 


70    THE   HUNDRED  WORST   BOOKS 

which  the  competent  usually  shun.  It  is  not 
necessary  that  there  should  be  elaborate  tests.  All 
that  can  reasonably  be  expected  is  that  a  reader, 
remembering  his  least  happy  hours,  should  indi- 
cate the  books  which  on  the  whole  seemed  pre- 
eminent in  the  quality  of  unreadableness. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  the  habit  of 
making  collections  of  books  on  the  ground  of 
their  worthlessness  is  not  common,  and  the  col- 
lector meets  many  discouragements  from  those 
who  do  not  appreciate  his  point  of  view.  I  had 
an  experience  of  this  kind  in  Oxford.  I  had  noted 
the  absence  in  the  English  newspapers  of  those 
colored  supplements  which  lend  distinction  to  our 
Sunday  newspapers,  and  which  throw  such  a  lurid 
light  upon  our  boasted  sense  of  humor. 

I  wondered  as  to  what  provision  was  made  for 
the  literary  proletariat  of  Great  Britain.  A  slight 
investigation  at  the  news-stands  revealed  the  fact 
that  the  same  pabulum  was  furnished  to  the  pub- 
lic, only  on  a  somewhat  different  plan.  In  Great 
Britain  it  is  served  a  la  carte  instead  of,  as  with  us, 
table  d'hote.  There  are  a  host  of  little  journals,  of 
which  "  Ally  Sloper*s  "  seemed  the  most  popular, 
which  contain  the  matter  which  is  thrust  upon  us 


THE   HUNDRED   WORST   BOOKS    71 

in  the  huge  supplements.  It  occurred  to  me  that 
it  might  be  pleasant  to  make  a  selection  of  these 
papers  of  the  "Ally  Sloper"  variety,  and  com- 
pare them  with  our  more  pretentious  productions 
in  the  same  line.  An  analysis  of  this  literature, 
which  was  evidently  devoured  in  Oxford  in  large 
quantities,  might  serve  as  the  basis  of  an  essay  to 
be  entitled  "  Under  the  Shadow  of  the  Bodleian." 

I  had  made  a  selection,  and  was  about  to  com- 
plete the  purchase,  when  the  keeper  of  the  news- 
stand handed  me  the  "  Hibbert  Journal  of  The- 
ology," saying,  with  a  firmness  of  conviction  that 
overpowered  my  lighter  desires,  "  This,  sir,  must 
be  what  you  are  looking  for." 

Though  the  systematic  study  of  literary  failures 
may  be  less  attractive  to  some  minds  than  the  con- 
templation of  successful  efforts,  there  can  be  no 
question  as  to  its  usefulness.  It  stands  in  the 
same  relation  to  formal  rhetoric  that  pathology 
does  to  physiology.  Certainly,  a  sound  know- 
ledge of  the  pathology  of  composition  must  be 
advantageous  to  one  venturing  upon  so  danger- 
ous an  occupation. 

In  compiling  a  list  of  the  Hundred  Worst 
Books  one  should  carefully  consider  the  necessary 


72     THE   HUNDRED  WORST   BOOKS 

limitations  of  the  inquiry.  In  the  first  place,  it 
should  be  remembered  that  the  word  worst  is 
used,  not  in  the  moral,  but  in  the  strictly  literary 
sense.  The  candidate  for  a  place  in  the  list  must 
be  bad,  not  as  a  man  may  be  bad,  but  as  a  book 
may  be  bad.  Now,  the  chief  end  of  a  book  is  to 
be  read,  and  the  lowest  depth  into  which  it  can 
fall  is  to  be  unreadable.  We  must  subordinate  all 
other  considerations  to  the  effort  to  ascertain  how 
it  stands  in  this  respect.  Our  judgment  must  be 
upon  the  degree  of  unreadableness.  Is  the  book 
one  which  we  should  not  read  if  we  had  any- 
thing better  at  hand,  or  is  it  of  such  a  character 
that  in  a  farm-house  on  a  rainy  afternoon  it  would 
not  serve  as  a  temporary  alleviation  of  our  disap- 
pointment at  not  finding  a  last  year's  Almanac  ? 

In  making  tests,  we  must  eliminate  all  preju- 
dice. A  book  that  awakens  prejudice  can  have 
no  place  in  the  list  of  the  Hundred  Worst.  A 
book  that  belongs  there  awakens  nothing.  If  it 
makes  you  angry  or  scornful  —  it  has  done  some- 
thing to  you.  This  is  evidence  of  a  certain  degree 
of  power.  The  test  of  really  poor  writing  is  that 
it  produces  no  mental  reactions. 

Were  there  a  popular  contest,  I  suppose  some 


THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS    73 

one  might  propose  the  once  well-known  works 
of  the  Sweet  Singer  of  Michigan.  This  would 
indicate  that  the  essentials  of  poor  literature  are 
not  understood.  I  have  read  every  poem  of  the 
Sweet  Singer  with  delighted  surprise.  The  aber- 
rations from  ordinary  usage  gave  a  certain  unfor- 
gettable quality  to  the  work.  On  the  other  hand, 
I  have  read  poems  irreproachable  in  rhyme  and 
rhythm,  and  when  I  had  finished  I  not  only  did  n't 
know  what  they  were  about,  —  which  was  a 
small  matter,  —  but,  what  was  more  important,  I 
did  n't  care. 

In  order  to  preserve  the  scientific  character  of 
the  investigations,  it  would  be  necessary  to  rule 
out  works  by  living  authors,  even  though  by  so 
doing  we  exclude  much  interesting  material. 

By  this  exclusion  we  avoid  the  question 
whether  literature  is  declining  in  quality,  as  it  in- 
creases in  quantity.  The  fact  that  there  are  vast 
numbers  of  poor  books  issuing  from  the  press 
does  not  prove  that  there  is  any  literary  deca- 
dence. We  should  remember  the  way  in  which 
Junius,  in  one  of  his  letters  to  the  Duke  of  Graf- 
ton, denied  that  he  had  charged  his  Lordship  with 
being  a  degenerate.  "  The  character  of  the  ances- 


74    THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS 

tors  of  some  men  has  made  it  possible  for  them 
to  be  vicious  in  the  extreme  without  being  de- 
generate." The  testimony  of  contemporaries  in 
such  a  matter  is  notoriously  unreliable.  Read,  for 
example,  "  The  Tears  of  the  Muses  "  by  Edmund 
Spenser.  Spenser  would  have  us  believe  that  the 
period  in  which  he  lived  had  reached  the  low- 
water  mark  of  English  genius.  Each  muse  comes 
forward  bathed  in  tears  to  lament  the  dismal 
heaviness  of  the  times. 

Clio  reports  that  in  her  line  there  is  "  nothing 
doing."  History  is  a  lost  art.  She  can  — 

Findc  nothing  worthie  to  be  writ,  or  told. 

Melpomene  bewails  the  fact  that  there  are  no 
longer  any  worthy  tragedians. 

But  I  that  in  true  tragedies  am  skild. 
The  flowre  of  wit,  finde  nought  to  busie  me: 
Therefore  I  mourne,  and  pitifully  mone, 
,  Because  that  mourning  matter  I  have  none. 

Gentle  Thalia  is  in  still  worse  plight. 

O,  all  is  gone  !  and  all  the  goodly  glee. 
Which  wont  to  be  the  glorie  of  gay  wits. 
Is  layd  abed,  and  no  where  now  to  see  ; 
And  in  her  roome  unseemly  Sorrow  sits. 


THE  HUNDRED  WORST   BOOKS    75 

And  him  beside  sits  ugly  Barbarisme, 
And  brutish  Ignorance,  ycrept  of  late 
Out  of  dredd  darknes  of  the  deep  abysme. 

One  muse  after  another  gives  sad  testimony. 
Only  one  person  of  real  ability  remains :  — 

Most  peereles  prince,  most  peereles  poetresse 
The  true  Pandora  of  all  heavenly  graces 
Divine  Elisa. 

With  the  exception  of  the  divine  Elisa,  all  were 
"  home  of  salvage  brood."  No  wonder  that  each 
muse  wept  immoderately. 

Eftsoones  such  store  of  teares  shee  forth  did  powre. 

As  if  shee  all  to  water  would  have  gone; 

And  all  her  sisters,  seeing  her  sad  stowre. 

Did  weep  and  waile  and  made  exceeding  mone  ; 

And  all  their  learned  instruments  did  breake ; 

The  rest  untold  no  living  tongue  can  speake. 

In  spite  of  these  lamentations,  one  cannot  help 
thinking  that  the  sixteenth  century  averaged  up 
pretty  well.  To  be  sure,  men  of  genius  were  not 
as  thick  as  blackberries ;  they  seldom  are. 

Of  course  the  same  difficulty  besets  the  com- 
pilers of  the  Best  Books,  when  they  allow  con- 
temporaries to  compete.  The  author  of  a  book 
of  reminiscences  of  Oxford  in  the  middle  of  the 


76     THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS 

nineteenth  century  tells  of  a  question  put  to  the 
great  Dr.  Routh,  then  the  head  of  Magdalen 
College  and  a  great  authority  on  literature.  "  If 
the  English  Language  were  to  become  a  dead 
language,  who  would  be  remembered  and  hold 
the  place  of  a  classic,  as  Cicero  in  the  Latin  ? " 
Dr.  Routh  answered  that  in  his  opinion  the  name 
that  would  survive  the  general  wreck  of  English 
Literature  would  be  that  of  Thomas  Warton. 
Such  judgments  serve  to  point  a  wholesome 
moral :  not  to  be  too  sure.  Fame  is  like  an  absent- 
minded  hostess.  She  receives  her  distinguished 
guest  graciously  and  assures  him  of  her  undying 
regard.  When,  a  little  while  after,  she  meets  him, 
she  inquires,  "  What  name,  please  *?  " 

As  my  present  purpose  is  simply  to  call  atten- 
tion to  some  of  the  most  salient  characteristics  of 
poor  writing,  I  shall  confine  my  attention  to  two 
or  three  books  that  happened  to  be  in  my  own 
library.  I  speak  in  this  matter,  not  as  an  expert, 
but  as  an  amateur.  I  have  read  a  good  many 
poor  books,  but  I  do  not  flatter  myself  that  I 
know  the  worst.  Nor  do  I  feel  that  I  have  the 
ability  ever  to  do  so.  There  are  books  at  which  I 
can  only  gaze  wistfully,  as  upon  some  land  where 


THE   HUNDRED   WORST   BOOKS     77 

no  man  comes  or  hath  come  since  the  making  of 
the  world.  I  have  not  the  courage  to  explore 
these  verbal  wildernesses.  If  I  were  to  choose  a 
volume  out  of  my  limited  collection  to  illustrate 
what  a  book  ought  not  to  be,  it  would  be  a  mod- 
est little  volume,  published  in  the  middle  of  the 
last  century  by  the  Religious  Tract  Society  of 
London,  and  entitled  "  Our  Domestic  Fowls."  I 
have  no  doubt  but  that  there  are  worse  books 
than  "  Our  Domestic  Fowls,"  but  its  faults  are  of 
such  a  typical  character  as  to  make  it  excellent 
material  for  a  literary  clinic. 

The  author,  Mr.  Martin,  was  capable  of  con- 
structing sentences  which  were  clear  and  which 
sometimes  attained  to  a  degree  of  elegance,  but 
the  effect  of  his  work  as  a  whole  was  to  confound 
the  understanding. 

The  reason  is  not  far  to  seek.  Like  most  poor 
books,  "Our  Domestic  Fowls"  was  made  to  order. 
In  the  introduction  we  are  told  that  the  Commit- 
tee of  the  Religious  Tract  Society  has  resolved 
to  publish  a  volume  each  month  adapted  to  the 
growing  intelligence  of  the  times.  "The  series 
will  be  Original,  Scriptural,  Popular,  Portable,  and 
Economical ;  that  is  to  say,  the  twelve  volumes 


78     THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS 

of  a  year  will  cost  less  than  three  half-pence  per 
week." 

Such  were  the  austere  requirements  of  the 
committee.  It  appears  that  the  more  attractive 
subjects  had  been  treated  already  by  other  authors. 
The  Life  of  Julius  Caesar,  Wild  Flowers,  The 
Solar  System,  Ancient  Jerusalem,  Self-Improve- 
ment, The  Atmosphere,  and  Man  in  his  Physical, 
Intellectual,  Social  and  Moral  Relations  had  been 
developed  in  such  a  way  as  to  "  supply  valuable 
reading  to  a  large  number  of  people  who  could 
spare  only  time  enough  for  the  perusal  of  a  small 
volume,  and  whose  means  would  not  allow  of 
a  more  costly  purchase."  The  cream  had  been 
skimmed  off  before  Mr.  Martin  appeared,  but 
there  was  left  for  him  one  subject.  Domestic 
Fowls,  which  he  was  required  to  treat  in  the 
same  Original,  Scriptural,  Portable,  and  Eco- 
nomical fashion  that  characterized  the  rest  of  the 
series. 

Here  Mr.  Martin  made  his  fundamental  mis- 
take, which  was  in  undertaking  to  write  the  book. 
Had  he  been  left  to  choose  his  own  subject,  he 
might  have  done  very  well.  Apparently  he  was 
a  man  of  sound  theological  views,  who  at  the 


THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS    79 

same  time  had  had  some  experience  in  poultry. 
Had  he  undertaken  to  write  on  either  Systematic 
Theology  or  Chicken-Raising,  he  might  have 
got  on.  It  was  in  the  attempt  to  do  both  at  the 
same  time,  in  order  to  fulfill  the  requirements  of 
the  committee,  that  he  came  to  grief. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  the  one  hundred  and 
ninety-two  pages  of  this  little  book  were  the 
cause  of  much  mental  anguish  to  Mr.  Martin. 
The  evidence  of  divided  aim  is  but  too  apparent. 
No  sooner  did  he  become  interested  in  describing 
the  raising  of  ducks  than  his  conscience  would 
smite  him  with  the  thought  that  some  reader  was 
hungry  for  a  scriptural  application,  and  he  would 
suddenly  remark,  "Whether  ducks,  geese,  or 
other  waterfowl  were  used  as  food  by  the  Ancient 
Hebrews  does  not  appear  from  any  passage  in 
the  scriptures.  They  do  not  seem  to  have  been 
interdicted,  and  as  the  Hebrews  must  have  wit- 
nessed the  extensive  consumption  of  these  birds 
while  sojourning  in  Egypt,  especially  ducks  and 
geese,  they  perhaps  may  have  adopted  their  use." 
On  the  other  hand,  he  says  that  it  is  just  as  likely 
"that,  influenced  by  their  feelings  of  aversion 
with  respect  to  Egyptian  rites  and  ceremonies,  the 


8o    THE  HUNDRED   WORST  BOOKS 

Hebrews  may  have  regarded  ducks  and  geese 
with  disgust." 

The  arguments  on  either  side  are  alike  plausi- 
ble, but  they  serve  to  interrupt  the  train  of 
thought  of  one  interested  in  the  more  practical 
aspects  of  the  subject. 

Mr.  Martin  begins  his  work  by  stating  that 
"  the  only  history  of  man  in  his  primeval  condi- 
tion is  that  contained  in  the  book  of  Genesis." 
Though  Adam  was  given  dominion  not  only 
over  the  fish  of  the  sea,  but  also  over  the  birds 
of  the  air,  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  exercised 
this  dominion  in  the  case  of  domestic  poultry. 
The  author  finds  much  difficulty  in  elucidating 
the  question  of  the  relation  of  the  patriarchs  to 
poultry,  coming  reluctantly  to  the  conclusion 
that  the  patriarchs  did  not  keep  hens.  He  takes 
much  comfort,  however,  in  a  "casual  and  little 
noticed  expression  in  the  First  Book  of  Kings," 
that  indicates  that  in  the  days  of  Solomon  the 
domestic  fowl  was  kept  in  Judea. 

These  investigations  take  Mr.  Martin  far  afield. 
There  is  an  apologetic  note  in  his  treatment  of 
the  turkey  and  guinea-fowls.  "  As  the  guinea-hen 
and  the  turkey  were  originally  imported  from 


THE   HUNDRED   WORST   BOOKS     8i 

Central  Africa  and  America,  we  can  of  course 
find  no  allusion  to  them  in  Scripture,  but  it  is 
somewhat  strange  that  the  pheasant  should  not 
be  noticed."  He  attempts  to  explain  the  omission 
in  two  sentences,  which  I  will  quote  as  an  ex- 
ample of  Mr.  Martin's  learned  and  clear  style. 
After  several  readings,  I  confess  I  have  not  been 
able  to  follow  his  line  of  thought.  He  says,  "  We 
think,  however,  that  an  easy  explanation  may  be 
given :  when  the  waters  of  the  deluge  were  as- 
suaging, Noah  selected  two  birds  by  way  of 
experiment,  the  raven  and  the  dove :  the  ark  was 
left  dry  on  Mount  Ararat,  probably  in  Armenia ; 
we  have  then  a  brief  narration  of  a  series  of  im- 
portant events  extending  over  a  period  of  three 
hundred  and  twenty-seven  years,  and  a  list  of 
generations,  till  we  come  to  the  injunction  laid 
upon  Abraham  to  leave  his  country  and  kindred : 
he  passed  with  Lot  to  the  land  of  Canaan,  and 
thence  into  Egypt,  with  flocks  and  herds,  his  pro- 
perty; thenceforth  he  and  his  descendants  led  a 
nomadic  life  in  Syria  and  Egypt,  feeding  their 
flocks  and  herds,  their  asses  and  camels.  Conse- 
quently, that  neither  this  elegant  bird  nor  any 
other  excepting  turtle-doves  and  young  pigeons 


82     THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS 

common  in  Syria,  and  used  as  offerings,  should  be 
alluded  to  in  the  history  of  the  patriarchs,  may  be 
readily  accounted  for." 

Mr.  Martin  was  a  good  Protestant.  Speaking 
of  the  guinea-fowl,  he  says  that  while  it  was  ori- 
ginally from  Africa  it  was  carried  to  America, 
"where  it  had  been  introduced  with  human 
bondsmen  torn  from  their  native  soil  to  supply 
the  place  of  the  miserably  slaughtered  population 
of  the  Western  World,  and  condemned  to  labor 
for  the  conquering  white  man,  for  him  whose  only 
passion  was,  under  the  veil  of  popish  religion,  the 
accursed  thirst  for  gold."  One  would  hardly  have 
expected  that  the  discussion  of  the  guinea-hen 
would  have  given  such  a  good  opportunity  to 
get  a  whack  at  the  Papacy. 

Mr.  Martin's  condition  is  described  in  the  title 
of  one  of  Tennyson's  poems,  "  Confessions  of  a 
Second-rate  Mind  not  at  Unity  with  Itself" 

Here  is  a  paragraph  in  which  Mr.  Martin 
struggles  with  different  phases  of  his  subject  with 
his  usual  lack  of  success: — 

"  Of  the  utility  of  the  fowl  as  an  article  of  food, 
and  of  the  goodness  of  its  eggs,  little  need  be  said, 
all  are  aware  of  the  great  numbers  of  the  former 


THE   HUNDRED   WORST   BOOKS     83 

consumed  in  the  metropolis  alone,  and,  with  re- 
spect to  the  latter,  thousands  are  annually  im- 
ported from  France  to  meet  the  demands  of  the 
market.  In  all  ages  the  cock  has  been  celebrated 
as  the  harbinger  of  the  morn,  the  herald  of  the 
sun,  whose  clarion  sounds  before  the  break  of 
day.  Watch  ye  therefore,  for  ye  know  not  when 
the  master  of  the  house  shall  come,  at  even  or  at 
midnight  or  at  the  cock-crowing." 

The  lack  of  unity  in  this  paragraph  must  strike 
the  most  uninstructed  reader,  and  yet  it  arises 
from  conscientious  motives.  The  writer  is  always 
going  back  to  the  subject  as  prepared  by  the 
committee.  It  is  the  same  fatal  impulse  which  is 
said  to  lead  the  murderer  to  revisit  the  scenes 
of  his  crime.  Mr.  Martin  cannot  forget  for  a 
moment  his  great  responsibilities.  He  is  always 
afraid  lest  his  moral  should  get  away  from  him. 
His  motto  is  Poultry  and  Theology,  one  and  in- 
separable. 

When  he  is  calculating  the  profits  arising  from 
hens  that  can  be  induced  to  devote  their  energies 
to  laying  eggs  rather  than  to  sitting  on  them,  he 
rises  into  the  sphere  of  Natural  Theology.  "It 
must  have  struck  even  the  most  superficial  ob- 


84    THE   HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS 

server  that  the  extraordinary  fecundity  of  gallina- 
ceous fowls  is  a  wise  and  most  benevolent  dispen- 
sation of  Providence  to  provide  more  abundant 
food  for  man." 

Having  made  this  edifying  observation,  he  feels 
that  he  has  discharged  a  spiritual  duty  and  may 
return  to  a  more  utilitarian  treatment  of  the  sub- 
ject. 

For  a  hundred  and  eighty-nine  pages  Mr.  Mar- 
tin struggles  manfully  with  his  subject.  He  is 
about  to  give  us  information  as  to  the  breeding 
of  swans,  when  he  suddenly  determines  to  bring 
his  dissertations  to  an  end. 

"  Here,  then,  we  may  close  our  account  of  the 
birds  legitimately  coming  under  the  head  of  do- 
mestic poultry.  A  few  words  may  be  permitted 
on  another  subject."  This  subject  is  really  number 
14  of  the  Series,  "Man  in  his  Physical,  Intellec- 
tual, and  Moral  Relations."  It  is  this  subject  which 
Mr.  Martin  has  been  hankering  for  all  the  time. 
He  has  only  four  pages,  but  he  devotes  it  to  The 
Fall  of  Man.  "Man  fell  from  his  first  estate,  and 
the  human  race  now  stands  as  guilty,  as  criminal, 
as  condemned  by  the  law,  to  break  one  tittle  of 
which  is  to  break  the  whole." 


THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS     85 

Gathering  together  the  threads  of  argument 
which  he  had  left:  at  loose  ends  in  the  various  chap- 
ters on  the  gallinaceous  fowls,  he  makes  a  fervent 
appeal  to  the  sinner,  and  ends  his  book  in  gentler 
tone,  with  a  few  comforting  reflections  for  the 
saints.  "  Even  now  the  day  is  brightening,  Chris- 
tianity can  number  among  its^  sincere  professors 
men  of  every  clime,  from  the  ice-bound  north  to 
the  sunny  isles  of  the  southern  seas,  the  skin-clad 
Greenlander  familiar  with  the  waves,  the  hardy 
Russ  and  Slavonian,  the  Angle,  the  Frank,  the 
Hindoo,  the  Negro,  the  Red  Rover  of  the  Amer- 
ican forest,  and  the  fierce  Polynesian,  once  an 
idolater  and  a  cannibal." 

With  this  elegant  peroration,  Mr.  Martin  brings 
his  book  on  "  Our  Domestic  Fowls  "  to  an  abrupt 
conclusion. 

This  book  is  useful  in  suggesting  the  cause  of 
much  unfortunate  writing.  The  author  has  not  a 
free  hand.  It  is  a  case  of  too  many  cooks  spoil- 
ing the  broth.  A  committee  may  do  many  things 
well,  but  it  cannot  produce  good  literature.  To 
draw  an  illustration  from  the  field  with  which 
Mr.  Martin  was  familiar,  we  may  say  that  in  litera- 
ture artificial  incubation  is  not  a  success. 


86     THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS 

One  may  observe  the  effects  of  outside  influences 
in  the  labored  style  of  government  reports,  inau- 
gural addresses,  orations  on  important  occasions, 
and  in  prize  poems  and  essays. 

The  dreariness  of  the  official  productions  of  the 
poets  laureate  of  England  is  a  case  in  point,  for 
many  of  these  gentlemen  in  their  private  capacity 
have  been  real  poets.  But  their  style  invariably 
took  a  turn  for  the  worse  when  they  began  to 
write  as  contract  laborers. 

The  productions  of  this  sort  are  like  the  early 
attempts  of  the  heavier-than-air  flying  machines. 
The  machine  was  first  lifted  to  an  elevated  plat- 
form. After  that  its  flight  consisted  of  laborious 
flopping  that  concealed,  but  did  not  overcome, 
the  force  of  gravity. 

Colley  Gibber,  who,  after  being  made  Poet 
Laureate,  was  elevated  to  the  position  of  hero  of 
"  The  Dunciad,"  complained  that  there  was  no- 
thing which  the  unmannerly  wits  of  his  day  liked 
better  than  "  a  lick  at  the  laureate."  It  is  a  sport 
which  is  still  enjoyed. 

Why  do  the  favorites  of  royalty  write  so  badly 
when  they  are  elevated  into  a  place  of  such  dig- 
nity *?   Boswell  reports  Dr.  Johnson  as  saying  of 


THE  HUNDRED  WORST   BOOKS     87 

Cibber:  "  His  friends  give  out  that  he  intended  his 
birthday  Odes  should  be  bad ;  but  that  is  not  the 
case,  sir."  This  charitable  view  seems  also  the 
reasonable  one.  It  is  not  necessary  to  suppose 
that  the  almost  uniform  badness  of  official  poetry 
comes  from  deliberate  malfeasance  in  office.  The 
honest  poet  does  his  best  to  earn  his  salary,  and  to 
give  his  patrons  their  money's  worth.  But  some- 
thing happens  to  him.  It  is  impossible  for  him 
to  deliver  the  goods. 

Suppose  Robert  Burns,  in  an  unfortunate  mo- 
ment, to  have  been  honored  with  the  laureateship. 
He  receives  an  order  to  produce  a  short  poem  for 
the  king's  birthday.  "Throw  ofFjust  a  simple  little 
thing,  like  the  lines  you  wrote  when  you  were 
ploughing.  His  Majesty  prefers  simplicity." 

Poor  Burns !  He  cannot  make  King  George 
seem  as  interesting  a  subject  as  a  field  mouse. 
All  the  felicities  of  speech  desert  him.  He  can 
only  render  unto  Csesar  the  things  that  are  Caesar's, 
which,  truth  to  tell,  are  quite  dull. 

If  patrons  in  former  times  were  the  cause  of 
much  bad  writing,  publishers  in  these  days  are 
not  without  their  burden  of  guilt.  The  unwary 
writer  commits  himself  to  a  literary  project  which 


88     THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS 

is  foreign  to  his  genius.  The  conflict  between 
what  he  wants  to  write  and  what  he  is  paid  to 
write,  destroys  all  spontaneous  charm.  The  com- 
mercialization of  literature  bears  its  own  penalty. 
The  literature  that  is  made  to  order,  following 
the  specifications  of  the  buyer  without  regard  to 
the  moods  of  the  producer,  is  bound  to  be  bad. 
Under  these  circumstances  a  skilled  writer's  pro- 
duction will  not  be  so  bad  as  the  work  of  a  novice, 
but  at  best  it  will  only  be  a  merchantable  speci- 
men of  his  own  worst  manner.  It  must  necessa- 
rily be  so,  as  it  is  his  work  with  himself  left  out. 
The  inability  to  write  well  unless  one  has  some- 
thing he  wants  to  write  is,  as  the  author  of  "  Our 
Domestic  Fowls  "  would  say,  "  a  wise  provision. ' 
I  have  confined  my  attention  to  prose.  To 
carry  the  investigation  into  poetry  would  be  too 
painful.  I  have  only  one  book  of  poems  which  I 
purchased  because  I  suspected  that  it  was  bad, 
and  in  this  adventure  I  hazarded  only  fifteen  cents. 
I  was  attracted  by  the  title,  "  Poems  by  Jones." 
If  the  author's  initials  had  been  given  I  should  not 
have  bought  the  book.  The  stark  title  promised 
something  rigidly  unpoetic,  and  the  promise  was 
fulfilled. 


THE   HUNDRED   WORST   BOOKS     89 

Jones  published  his  poems  in  1759,  and,  with 
the  exception  of  a  lady  who  left  some  rose- 
petals  between  the  leaves,  I  flatter  myself  that  I 
am  the  only  person  in  one  hundred  and  fifty  years 
who  has  read  the  book. 

The  principal  poem  is  entitled  "  Philosophy,  a 
poem  addressed  to  the  ladies  who  attended  Mr. 
Booth's  lectures  in  Dublin."  Mr.  Booth,  it  ap- 
pears, lectured  on  natural  philosophy. 

Jones  describes  the  way  in  which  the  ladies 
listened  to  the  lecture  and  watched  the  experi- 
ments in  physics :  — 

What  pleasing  fervours  in  each  Bosom  rise. 
What  deep  attention  and  what  fixed  surprise. 

We  can  almost  see  the  "  fixed  surprise  "  of  the 
eighteenth-century  ladies  as  the  experiments  came 
out  just  as  the  lecturer  said  they  would. 
Well  does  the  poet  say, — 

Thrice  happy  few,  that  wisely  here  attend 
The  voice  of  Science  and  her  Cause  befriend. 

To  you  bright  nymphs  whose  wisdom  charms  us  most. 

The  pride  of  Nature,  and  Creation's  boast. 

To  you  Philosophy  enamoured  flies 

And  triumphs  in  the  plaudits  of  your  eyes. 


90    THE  HUNDRED   WORST  BOOKS 

That  was  very  flattering,  and  I  like  to  think  that 
the  rose-petals  were  left:  in  the  book  by  one  of  the 
lecture-going  ladies  of  Dublin  when  it  was  last 
opened  in  the  winter  of  the  year  1759. 

In  the  title  of  another  poem,  Jones  uncon- 
sciously lets  us  into  the  secret  of  the  Art  of  Poetry 
as  it  has  been  practiced  in  all  ages  by  the  worst 
poets.  It  is  a  poem  entitled,  "To  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Mann,  occasioned  by  the  author's  asking  him  for 
a  subject  to  write  on,  and  his  saying  he  could 
think  of  none." 

The  poet,  having  no  ideas  of  his  own  and  be- 
ing unable  to  borrow  any  from  his  friends,  falls 
into  a  gentle  melancholy.  In  attempting  to  ex- 
press this  melancholy  sense  of  intellectual  destitu- 
tion, he  is  greatly  surprised  to  find  that  he  has 
written  a  poem  of  considerable  length. 

Standing  on  the  same  shelf  with  "  Our  Domestic 
Fowls"  is  another  little  volume  of  the  same  period, 
"The  Young  Lady's  Aid  to  Usefulness  and  Hap- 
piness." It  is  difficult  to  tell  what  is  the  matter  with 
this  book.  There  are  no  obvious  faults  to  attract 
the  attention.  There  are  no  sentiments  which 
could  do  the  least  harm  to  the  delicate  young 
lady  portrayed  on  the  frontispiece.  Yet  it  has 


THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS    91 

only  been  by  a  great  effort  of  will  that  I  have  been 
able  to  read  more  than  one  sentence  at  a  sitting. 
Dip  into  the  book  at  any  point,  and  you  feel  that 
you  have  read  that  page  before. 

Here  is  a  specimen  sentence,  on  page  1 22 : 
"The  particular  suggestions  are  that  the  great 
object  of  education  is  to  draw  out,  exercise,  and 
develop  the  various  faculties  of  our  nature,  that 
books  and  studies  are  the  means  of  accomplish- 
ing this  object,  but  as  the  strength  and  develop- 
ment of  the  mental  powers  depend  upon  the 
actual  exercise  of  these  powers  rather  than  upon 
the  particular  studies  and  subjects  on  which  the 
mind  is  exercised,  it  sometimes  happens  that 
those  who  are  deprived  of  books  and  studies  do 
by  similar  exercise  of  their  minds  upon  the  actual 
duties  and  trials  of  life,  obtain  the  same  or  simi- 
lar valuable  results  with  others,  and  that  conse- 
quently those  young  ladies  who  enjoy  great  ad- 
vantages should  remember  that  the  value  of  their 
education  will  depend  upon  their  own  faithful- 
ness in  the  right  exercise  of  their  mind,  rather 
than  upon  the  high  character  of  the  advantages 
they  enjoy,  while  those  who  are  deprived  of  these 
privileges  may  be  encouraged  to  seek  for  the 


92     THE  HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS 

same  valuable  results  in  rightly  meeting  and 
rightly  discharging  the  duties  of  life." 

This  is  what  in  the  language  of  penology 
would  be  called  an  "indeterminate  sentence." 

The  obvious  criticism  is  that  it  is  too  long,  and 
the  attempt  might  be  made  to  improve  it  by 
chopping  it  up  into  small  pieces.  This  would  be 
a  makeshift  like  that  of  the  cook  who,  when  a 
piece  of  meat  is  too  tough  and  tasteless  to  be 
served  whole,  has  it  minced. 

There  was  a  poem  which  I  learned  in  my 
childhood  in  which  the  question  is  propounded :  — 

How  big  was  Alexander,  Pa  ? 

The  people  call  him  Great. 
Was  he  like  old  Goliath  tall. 

His  spear,  a  hundred  weight  ? 

The  answer  was  one  that  appealed  to  common 
sense :  — 

*T  was  not  his  stature  made  him  great 
But  the  greatness  of  his  mind. 

So  one  may  say  of  the  sentence  in  the  "  Young 
Lady's  Aid,"  it  is  not  its  length  that  makes  it  tedi- 
ous, but  the  tediousness  of  the  author's  mind.  This 
is  apparent  when  we  compare  it  with  an  equally 
extended  sentence  of  Milton  on  the  same  subject. 


THE   HUNDRED   WORST  BOOKS     93 

Milton's  sentence  sweeps  everything  before  it. 
It  fills  every  nook  and  cranny,  and  we  are  carried 
along  by  its  uncontrolled  energy.  The  sentence  in 
the  "Young  Lady's  Aid"  moves  also,  but  it  moves 
on  a  pivot.  The  same  phrases  reappear  like  the 
gilt  chariots  in  a  merry-go-round.  To  be  reminded 
once  of  the  trials  and  duties  of  life  is  salutary,  but 
when  the  same  trials  and  duties  which  gave  sol- 
emnity to  the  first  half  of  the  sentence  reappear 
in  the  second  half,  and  we  are  again  assured  of 
the  valuable  results  of  education,  the  result  is  in- 
tellectual vertigo. 

A  comparison  between  selected  passages  from 
the  Hundred  Best  and  the  Hundred  Worst  Books 
might  throw  light  on  the  question  how  far  educa- 
tion affects  literary  style.  There  is  a  field  in  which 
instruction  avails.  There  are  obvious  faults  that 
can  be  corrected,  and  there  are  excellences  that 
can  be  attained,  by  training.  But  there  is,  beyond 
that,  the  field  for  native  qualities. 

There  is  an  incommunicable  grace  of  language 
which  is  "  the  glory  of  gay  wits."  We  may  be 
taught  to  recognize  it  and  to  enjoy  it,  but  we  can- 
not be  taught  to  imitate  it.  In  any  bit  of  writing 
it  is  eitlier  there  or  it  is  not  there.  If  it  is  there. 


94    THE   HUNDRED  WORST  BOOKS 

we  are  glad;  if  it  is  not  there,  the  best  teacher 
cannot  correct  the  deficiency. 

If  the  best  is  inimitable,  so  fortunately  is  the 
worst.  The  poorest  writing  must  be  accepted  as 
a  gift  of  Nature.  Lord  Chatham  said  of  the  mem- 
bers of  Lord  North's  cabinet,  "They  have  brought 
themselves  where  ordinary  inability  never  arrives, 
and  nothing  but  first-rate  geniuses  in  incapacity 
can  reach."  A  study  of  the  works  of  first-rate 
geniuses  in  literary  incapacity  will  show  that  by 
no  rearrangement  of  sentences  or  application  of 
formal  rules  can  they  be  greatly  improved;  for, 
in  each  case,  the  style  is  the  man.  The  fact  to  be 
considered  in  regard  to  the  worst  writer  is,  not 
that  he  makes  mistakes,  but  that  he  is  a  mistake. 

We  come  back  to  the  theory  of  the  Dunciad, 
where  the  Goddess  Dulness  is  described :  — 

Laborious,  heavy,  busy,  bold,  and  blind. 
She  ruled  in  native  anarchy  the  mind. 

A  learned  footnote  explains :  "  Dulness  is  here  to 
be  taken,  not  contrastedly  for  mere  stupidity,  but 
in  the  enlarged  sense  of  the  word  for  all  slowness 
of  apprehension,  shortness  of  sight,  or  imperfect 
sense  of  things.  It  includes  (as  we  see  from  the 
poef  s  own  words)  some  degree  of  boldness,  a 


THE  HUNDRED   WORST   BOOKS     95 

ruling  principle,  not  inert,  but  turning  topsy-turvy 
the  understanding  and  inducing  a  confused  state 
of  mind."  No  educational  device  has  yet  been  in- 
vented by  which  sweetness  and  light  may  be  ex- 
tracted from  this  confused  state  of  mind 


THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS 


ONCE  upon  a  time  there  was  an  Old  Libra- 
rian who,  attending  a  convention  of  his 
profession,  closed  his  eyes.  This  was  not  because 
the  papers  were  uninteresting ;  nor  was  it  because 
they  were  not  important  if  true,  for  they  were 
both  important  and  true.  But  the  papers  were 
many  and  the  librarian  was  no  longer  young; 
therefore  he  closed  his  eyes  that  he  might  more 
easily  follow  the  thought.  So  he  followed  the 
thought  until  he  was  out  of  hearing  of  the  some- 
what too  even  voice  of  the  gentleman  who  was 
reading. 

Suddenly  he  found  himself  in  a  convention  of 
books.  Now,  the  librarian  had  always  loved  books, 
and  had  cared  for  their  safety,  and  had  planned  to 
extend  their  usefulness.  But  in  the  country  to 
which  he  had  been  transported  the  conditions  are 
reversed.  The  books  assume  responsibility  for  the 
care  of  their  readers,  and  arrange  them  in  order 
and  decide  upon  their  merits.  For  the  books  in 


THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS  97 

their  own  country  set  great  store  by  their  readers. 
When  a  book  misplaces  its  readers,  or  loses  them,  it 
is  looked  upon  as  unskillful.  It  is  no  small  achieve- 
ment for  a  book  to  look  after  a  large  collection 
of  miscellaneous  readers,  and  to  select  those  that 
are  valuable. 

When  the  Old  Librarian  arrived,  the  conven- 
tion hall  was  almost  full.  There  were  books  of 
all  sizes  and  ages,  all  engaged  in  animated  con- 
versation. There  were  venerable  folios,  grave 
middle-aged  quartos,  flashy  young  duodecimos. 
Blue-blooded  classics  were  elbowed  by  pushing 
"  best  sellers."  Shabby  odd  volumes  shambled 
about,  looking  for  members  of  their  family  circle 
from  whom  they  had  been  separated  for  years. 
Now  and  then  a  superannuated  text-book,  lean 
and  haggard,  would  ask  for  information  from  a 
pert  young  fellow  who  had  once  been  his  pupil. 
A  slight  willowy  poem  would  trip  along  with  a 
look  of  vague  inquiry  in  her  innocent  eyes,  as  if 
she  were  seeking  some  one  who  would  tell  her 
what  she  was  all  about.  She  would  draw  her  dainty 
singing  robes  around  her  to  avoid  the  touch  of 
some  horny-handed  son  of  prose  with  the  dust  of 
the  Census  Bureau  yet  upon  him.   There  were 


98   THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS 

grave,  learned  books  who  were  spoken  of  with 
bated  breath  as  "Authorities";  and  there  were 
"  Original  Sources,"  aristocrats  of  long  lineage, 
who  still  clung  to  the  antique  garb  of  their 
youth. 

There  were  few  in  the  company  who  ventured 
upon  any  familiarity  with  these  worthies.  It  was 
however  whispered  by  an  enterprising  Thesis,  who 
had  made  their  acquaintance,  that  some  of  them, 
in  their  own  day  and  generation,  had  been  rather 
common. 

Near  the  doors  were  groups  of  half-grown  pam- 
phlets who  had  not  yet  reached  the  dignity  of 
full  book-hood.  They  formed  a  disturbing  ele- 
ment, and  it  was  a  question  whether  they  should 
be  admitted  to  the  floor,  it  being  very  difficult  to 
keep  these  unbound  hobbledehoys  in  order. 

The  Old  Librarian  was  not  one  of  those  in- 
defatigable persons  who  can  sit  through  all  the 
meetings  furnished  by  conscientious  programme- 
makers.  He  was  glad  that  so  many  papers  were 
provided  at  all  hours,  but  there  was  a  touch  of 
altruism  in  his  nature,  so  that  he  rejoiced  in  the 
thought  of  the  information  which  the  minds  of 
others  received  while  his  own  lay  fallow.  After  the 


THE  CONVENTION   OF   BOOKS  99 

convention  had  been  opened,  he  wandered  in  a 
leisurely  way  from  one  section  to  another,  listen- 
ing to  such  of  the  discussions  as  interested  him, 
and  observing  how  the  books  conducted  their 
business. 

There  was  much  wrangling  over  the  report  of 
the  Committee  on  Credentials,  as  there  was  a 
great  difference  of  opinion  as  to  what  constitutes 
a  book.  It  is  an  old  controversy  between  the 
strict  constructionists  and  those  of  more  demo- 
cratic tendencies.  In  this  case  the  strict  construc- 
tionists were  outvoted,  and  the  Old  Librarian 
noticed  a  number  of  volumes  taking  part  in  the 
proceedings,  to  whom  he  would  not  have  given 
the  privileges  of  the  floor. 

There  was  one  general  subject  for  discussion, 
"  The  Care  of  Readers,"  but  each  section  consid- 
ered its  own  questions  of  technique.  Never  had 
the  Old  Librarian  been  so  impressed  with  the  sense 
of  the  importance  of  readers.  The  president  in  his 
opening  address  declared  that  the  reader  could  no 
longer  be  treated  as  a  negligible  quantity.  Read- 
ers might  be  said  to  be  almost  essential  to  the 
existence  of  books.  It  was  a  great  satisfaction  to 
the  Old  Librarian  to  hear  this,  for  he  had  often 


100   THE   CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS 

been  grieved  at  the  haughty  airs  of  certain  of  the 
more  learned  books  who  had  refused  to  make  any 
allowance  for  the  natural  infirmities  of  their  read- 
ers. They  would  lead  them  into  verbal  labyrinths 
and  heartlessly  leave  them  there,  laughing  with 
erudite  glee  at  their  confusion.  But  this  was  not 
the  spirit  of  the  convention. 

The  Old  Librarian  listened  with  much  interest 
to  a  paper  on  "The  Classification  of  Readers." 
The  readers  were  classified  according  to  the  natural 
method,  — 

The  readers  who  read  through. 

The  readers  who  read  at. 

The  readers  who  read  in. 

The  readers  who  read  round  about. 

And  the  well-beloved  readers  who  read  be- 
tween the  lines. 

BoswelPs  "  Life  of  Johnson "  said  that  he  was 
accustomed  to  divide  readers  into  two  classes,  the 
herbivorous  and  the  carnivorous.  The  herbivor- 
ous reader  is  a  quiet,  ruminating  creature  who 
likes  to  browse  in  a  library.  He  could  best  illus- 
trate the  characteristic  of  the  carnivorous  species 
by  quoting  a  note  that  he  had  made  of  Dr.  John- 
son's way  of  reading.  "He  seemed  to  read  it 


THE  CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS   loi 

ravenously  as  if  he  devoured  it.  .  .  .  He  knows 
how  to  read  better  than  any  one  ...  he  gets  at  the 
substance  of  a  book  directly,  he  tears  the  heart 
out  of  it.  He  kept  it  wrapt  up  in  the  table-cloth 
in  his  lap  during  the  time  of  dinner,  .  .  .  resem- 
bling (if  I  may  use  so  coarse  a  simile)  a  dog  who 
holds  a  bone  in  his  paws  in  reserve  while  he  eats 
something  else  which  has  been  thrown  to  him." 

"  How  shocking ! "  said  Mrs.  Hemans's  Poems, 
shuddering. 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed,  madam.  I  was  only  using 
a  figure  of  speech." 

A  paper  was  read  on  "The  Treatment  of 
Ephemeral  Readers ;  how  they  may  be  catalogued 
to  be  made  available  during  their  lifetime  and 
retired  with  the  least  time  and  labor." 

There  was  some  difference  of  opinion  as  to 
what  constitutes  an  ephemeral  reader.  Kant's  "Cri- 
tique of  Pure  Reason"  defined  him  as  one  who 
never  got  beyond  the  title-page.  He  never  felt 
that  a  reader  was  worth  cataloguing  unless  he  had 
got  into  the  first  chapter.  He  was  sorry  to  say 
that  most  of  his  readers  belonged,  not  to  the  class 
that  reads  in,  but  to  that  which  only  reads  about 

Royce's  "  The  World  and  the  Individual "  re- 


I02   THE  CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS 

marked  that  he  had  noticed  a  good  many  of  these 
second-hand  readers  of  Kant  lying  around  in  the 
colleges. 

"I  wonder,"  said  "The  Spectator,"  "why  so 
many  readers  insist  on  forcing  themselves  into  the 
company  of  books  that  are  above  their  station  in 
life.  They  must  know  that  they  would  be  happier 
with  those  of  their  own  class." 

"  I  remember  a  remark  of  Dr.  Johnson  which 
may  throw  some  light  on  the  situation,"  said  Bos- 
well's  "  Life  of  Johnson."  "  It  was  one  day  when 
we  visited  the  Pantheon  in  London,  then  newly 
opened  as  a  place  of  entertainment.  I  said,  when 
I  had  paid  the  entrance  fee,  '  There 's  not  a  half- 
guinea's  worth  of  pleasure  in  seeing  this  place.' 
To  which  Dr.  Johnson  replied,  '  But,  sir,  there 's 
half  a  guinea's  worth  of  inferiority  to  other  people 
in  not  having  seen  it.' " 

"  It 's  lucky  that  so  many  readers  have  that  ami- 
able weakness,"  drawled  Lord  Chesterfield's  Let- 
ters. "  Those  big-wigs  over  there,"  pointing  to  the 
World's  Classics,  "wouldn't  be  dressed  in  full 
morocco  if  it  were  n't  that  every  blessed  reader  is 
willing  to  give  his  guineas  to  be  saved  from  the 
inferiority  of  not  knowing  them." 


THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS  103 

Burton's  "  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  "  rose  from 
his  chair  with  some  effort,  to  resent  what  seemed 
to  him  an  unworthy  fling  at  the  readers  whose 
reading  was  done  by  proxy. 

"I  have  been  highly  esteemed  and  kept  in  good 
reputation  by  successive  generations  that  have 
taken  me  on  trust.  They  slap  me  on  the  back  and 
call  me  '  Good  old  Burton/  and  '  Quaint  old  Bur- 
ton/ and  quote  somebody  who  quoted  somebody 
I  quoted.  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  they  will  keep 
it  up  for  several  hundred  years  longer.  Is  n't  it 
just  as  well  as  if  they  actually  took  the  trouble  to 
read  me  ?  They  certainly  have  kept  up  a  pleasant 
speaking  acquaintance." 

The  "  Complete  Works  of  Josephus,"  neatly 
attired  in  calf,  arose  to  testify  to  his  approval  of  the 
philosophical  remarks  of  his  young  friend.  Two 
hundred  years  is  a  short  time  in  the  life  of  a  book. 
As  for  himself,  he  was  approaching  his  second 
millennium,  and  he  was  happy  to  say  that  his  cir- 
culation was  still  good.  Since  his  first  publication 
no  generation  had  arisen  that  knew  not  Josephus. 
He  attributed  his  longevity  to  his  regular  habits. 
He  had  very  early  got  himself  talked  about  in 
learned  and  semi-learned  circles.  Works  dealing 


104  THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS 

in  a  popular  way  with  Hebrew  history  are  accus- 
tomed to  say  to  their  readers,  "  See  Josephus." 

"Do  the  readers  see  you*?"  asked  a  thin, anxious- 
looking  commentary. 

"  That  is  immaterial,"  answered  the  Complete 
Works.  "  They  like  to  have  me  near  at  hand,  so 
that  they  can  see  me  in  case  of  emergency.  If  one 
is  asked  to  address  a  meeting  of  Sunday-school 
teachers  it  is  a  great  convenience  to  be  able  to 
say,  'Herod  Antipas  must  not  be  confounded 
with  Herod  the  Tetrarch,  as  is  well  known  by 
every  reader  of  Josephus.'  Now,  every  one  is 
liable  to  be  asked  to  address  a  meeting  of  Sunday- 
school  teachers  at  some  time  or  other,  and  it  gives 
a  feeling  of  security  to  have  me  at  hand.  Of  course 
a  narrow-minded  person  may  deny  that  readers  of 
this  kind  should  be  included  in  the  card-catalogue, 
but  I  should  not  know  what  to  do  without  them. 
But  for  them  I  should  be  as  lonesome  as  my  old 
friend  Philo  of  Alexandria.  He  had  a  great  repu- 
tation in  his  day,  but  he  is  now  known  only  to 
scholars.  There  is  no  distinction  in  that,  for 
scholars  are  willing  to  know  anything." 

The  "  Letters  of  Junius"  said  that  he  had  spent 
a  great  deal  of  time  in  the  study  of  readers,  en- 


THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS    105 

deavoring  to  find  out  what  became  of  them.  The 
more  he  looked  into  the  matter,  the  more  the 
mystery  deepened.  It  was  not  merely  the  fugitive 
reader  that  disappeared.  He  supposed  that  every 
book  here  that  had  made  a  collection  could  tell  of 
serious  losses. 

"Friendship's  Garland,"  a  single  volume  of 
uncertain  age,  said  that  she  had  been  greatly 
troubled  in  this  way.  All  her  readers  had  mysteri- 
ously disappeared  without  fault  of  her  own.  Far 
be  it  from  her  to  cast  suspicion  upon  her  fellow- 
books,  but  she  feared  that,  if  an  investigation  were 
made,  it  might  be  found  that  some  of  them  had 
readers  that  did  n't  belong  to  them. 

Rollin's  "  Ancient  History "  said  that  once  he 
had  a  large  number  of  readers  that  he  had  collected 
with  much  industry.  They  had  disappeared  one 
by  one.  He  supposed  that  it  was  now  too  late  to 
recover  them.  Works  of  Fiction  had  at  one  time 
been  accused  of  purloining  readers  from  unsuspect- 
ing Histories.  He  had  noticed  a  gang  of  Historical 
Romances  loafing  in  the  vicinity.  They  were  sus- 
picious characters  living  without  visible  means  of 
support.  Many  years  ago  "  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw  " 
had  borrowed  some  of  his  readers  and  had  never 


io6   THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS 

returned  them.  He  had,  however,  been  told  that 
of  late  there  had  been  a  reformation  among  Works 
of  Fiction  and  that  they  are  becoming  quite  seri- 
ous. 

"That  is  true,"  said  a  sad-faced  problematic 
novel.  "  There  is  no  danger  to  be  apprehended 
from  us.  We  are  poor  but  honest." 

Gibbon's  "Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire  "  remarked  that  while  such  petty  larcenies 
as  those  of  which  "  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw  "  was 
accused  were  to  be  reprehended,  we  must  push 
the  investigations  to  the  books  higher  up.  He 
himself  had  lost  some  valuable  readers.  "  We  must 
protect  ourselves  from  the  depredations  of  certain 
malefactors  of  great  literary  wealth." 

As  he  sat  down  he  cast  a  searching  glance  at 
the  Waverley  Novels. 

"  I  hope  that  all  questions  involving  property 
rights  in  readers  may  be  submitted  to  arbitration," 
said  Disraeli's  "  Quarrels  of  Authors."  "  It  would 
save  much  ink-shed." 

"  As  for  the  losses  of  our  honorable  friend  the 
*  Decline  and  Fall,'  perhaps  another  explanation 
might  be  given,"  said  Horace  Walpole's  Letters. 
"  It  may  only  be  that  his  readers  are  mortal.  There 


THE  CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS    107 

was  a  remark  of  my  Lord  Chesterfield  that  was 
famous  in  its  day.  When  he  and  his  friend  Lord 
Tyrawley  had  been  missed  from  the  gay  society 
in  which  they  had  been  ornaments,  my  Lord 
explained :  '  Tyrawley  and  I  have  been  dead 
these  two  years,  but  we  don't  choose  to  have  it 
known.' " 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  James's  "  Pragmatism," 
"  that  I  sometimes  think  that  we  books  take  our- 
selves too  seriously.  Why  should  n't  our  readers 
slip  away  from  us  if  they  can  ?  It  shows  their 
sense.  Just  because  we  are  bound  volumes  and 
sport  a  table  of  contents,  we  think  there  must  be 
something  in  us.  Sometimes  there  is,  but  the  rela- 
tion between  printed  matter  and  mind  is  variable. 
There  is  a  great  deal  of  superstition  in  the  as- 
sumption of  our  educational  value.  It  is  far  from 
absolute.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  we  were  some 
day  put  out  of  business  by  the  fifteen-cent  maga- 
zines." 

"  Hear!  hear  !"  cried  Poole's  "  Index." 

"  It  all  depends,"  said  "  The  Strenuous  Life," 
"  on  the  man  behind  the  book.  Now  in  Africa — " 

"Speaking  of  Africa  and  of  educational  values," 
interrupted  Mungo  Park's  "  Travels  in  the  Interior 


io8   THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS 

of  Africa,"  "  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  them  both. 
If  you  don't  mind  my  repeating  myself,  I  will 
tell  you  of  a  little  experience  I  had.  It  was  some 
time  after  I  had  escaped  from  Tiggeity  Sego,  and 
I  was  taking  leave  of  the  Dooty  of  Dingyee.  I 
had  stayed  over  night  with  an  old  Foulah  whose 
name  I  now  forget.  In  the  morning,  as  I  was  about 
to  depart,  he,  with  a  great  deal  of  diffidence,  begged 
me  to  give  him  a  lock  of  my  hair.  He  had  been 
told  that  a  white  man's  hair  made  a  saphie  (charm) 
that  would  give  the  possessor  all  the  knowledge 
of  white  men.  I  had  never  before  heard  of  so 
simple  a  mode  of  education,  but  instantly  com- 
plied with  the  request ;  but  my  landlord's  thirst 
for  learning  was  such  that  with  cutting  and  pull- 
ing he  cropped  one  side  of  my  head  pretty  closely, 
and  would  have  done  the  same  with  the  other  had 
I  not  signified  my  disapprobation  by  putting  on 
my  hat  and  assuring  him  that  I  wished  to  reserve 
some  of  the  precious  merchandise  for  a  future 
occasion." 

"  I  must  make  a  note  of  that,"  said  G.  Stanley 
Hall's  "  Adolescence,"  taking  out  his  fountain-pen. 
"  It  is  a  very  interesting  variation  in  pedagogy. 
Here  is  Mr.  Mungo  Park,  who  tells  us  that  in 


THE  CONVENTION   OF   BOOKS    109 

Wassiboo  it  was  supposed  that  a  liberal  educa- 
tion could  be  obtained  by  cutting  off  the  hair  of 
any  traveling  gentleman  of  the  Caucasian  race. 
The  candidate  for  a  degree  evidently  followed  a 
strict  curriculum.  In  our  colleges,  on  the  other 
hand,  our  adolescents  firmly  believe  that  a  liberal 
education  may  be  obtained  by  allowing  the  hair 
to  grow  long  and  thick  about  the  time  of  the  au- 
tumnal equinox.  This  is  a  survival  of  the  ancient 
cult  of  the  gridiron,  which  is  connected  with  human 
sacrifices." 

"  After  all,"  said  Sir  Thomas  Browne's  "  Vulgar 
Errors,"  "there  is  a  good  deal  to  be  said  in  behalf 
of  this  capillary  theory  of  education.  It  indicates 
that  even  in  modern  times  the  primitive  notion 
is  preserved  that  education  has  something  to  do 
with  the  head.  The  only  dubiety  is  as  to  whether 
the  educational  process  shall  go  on  internally  or 
externally.  This  is  but  a  detail.  The  superstition 
that  is  more  common  is  one  by  which  we  books 
profit.  There  are  those  who  attribute  to  us  a  magic 
which  produces  results  altogether  independent  of 
any  activity  either  within  the  cerebral  cavity  or  on 
the  superficies  of  the  cranium.  They  imagine  that 
a  book  is  a  perfect  substitute  for  the  fatiguing 


no  THE  CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS 

process  of  cerebration.  Such  readers  would  con- 
sider it  a  work  of  supererogation  to  use  their  own 
heads.  I  would  admit  that  this  superstition  is  less 
rational  than  that  to  which  our  friend  *  Travels  in 
the  Interior  of  Africa '  refers,  but  the  question  is, 
Should  we  disturb  it?  We  books  must  live.  Of 
course  we  know  that  we  are  not  really  wiser  than 
the  people  who  write  us,  and  we  may  know  no 
more  than  the  people  who  read  us,  but  should  we 
take  the  public  into  our  confidence  *?  " 

At  this  point  Tupper's  "Proverbial  Philo- 
sophy "  arose  and  inquired  anxiously  whether  any 
reporters  were  present.  On  being  assured  that  there 
were  none,  he  said  that  he  would  venture  to  re- 
mark that  every  book  is  as  wise  as  he  looks  and 
every  reader  as  wise  as  he  feels. 

"Still,"  said  HilPs  "Rhetoric,"  "we  must  re- 
member that  we  all  make  mistakes.  No  book  is 
a  hero  to  his  own  proof-reader." 

Pope's  "Essay  on  Criticism"  asked  to  be 
allowed  to  correct  his  learned  friend  the  "  Vulgar 
Errors,"  who  had  accused  certain  passive  readers 
of  not  using  their  heads.  It  was  only  fair  to  say  that 
they  allowed  their  heads  to  be  used  free  of  charge. 
They  are  useful  as  storehouses.    Miscellaneous 


THE  CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS   iii 

material  left  in  cold  storage  was  never  interfered 
with,  and  when  called  for  was  found  in  the  same 
condition  in  which  it  arrived.  He  would  therefore 
repeat  the  tribute  which  he  had  given  some  time 
since  to  — 

The  bookful  blockhead,  ignorantly  read. 
With  loads  of  learned  lumber  in  his  head. 

"  In  behalf  of  some  of  the  most  respectable  books 
here  present,  I  would  return  thanks  for  such  re- 
positories." 

"  I  don't  understand  all  this  talk  about  losing 
readers,"  said  the  Kansas  City  Directory.  "Pm 
only  a  plain  business  book,  and  I  don't  pretend  to 
have  what  you  literary  fellows  call  '  style/  but  I 
manage  to  keep  my  readers  all  right.  The  great 
thing  is  to  find  out  what  your  readers  want  and 
give  it  to  them.  Now  my  readers  don't  want 
ideas,  they  want  facts;  so  I  give  them  the  facts 
in  the  original  packages.  One  of  my  wealthiest 
readers  told  me  that  for  a  dozen  years  he  had 
given  up  acquaintance  with  any  books  but  those 
of  my  kind.  He  liked  something  reliable.  He 
had  once,  he  said,  been  taken  in  by  one  *  Sartor 
Resartus,'  who  purported  to  furnish  a  Philosophy 
of  Clothes.  Being  in  the  clothing  line  himself  he 


112   THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS 

thought  he  might  get  some  good  ideas.  I  will 
not  repeat  what  my  friend  said,  for  'Sartor  Re- 
sartus '  may  be  present  and  I  would  not  hurt  his 
feelings.  When  a  reader  comes  to  me  I  give  him 
what  he  comes  for.  The  trouble  with  you  fellows 
who  advertise  'culture'  is  that  the  readers  don't 
know  what  it  is,  and  they  are  not  sure  whether 
they  get  it  from  you  or  not." 

Here  Matthew  Arnold's  "Culture  and  An- 
archy" rose  to  a  point  of  order. 

Marie  Corelli's  Works  then  read  a  paper  en- 
titled "A  Heavy  Plea  for  Light  Readers."  She 
argued  that  the  economic  law  of  supply  and  de- 
mand should  be  more  fully  recognized  in  high 
critical  circles.  She  also  argued  against  govern- 
ment by  injunction.  A  bench  of  critics  had  no  right 
to  enjoin  light  readers  who  were  engaged  in  the 
pursuit  of  happiness. 

In  the  discussion  that  followed,  complaint  was 
made  that  the  most  troublesome  reader  of  the 
lighter  sort  was  the  humorous  reader.  He  was 
always  finding  in  a  book  something  which  the 
author  had  not  intended  to  be  seen. 

In  order  to  weed  out  such  readers,  it  was  moved 
that  a  committee  be  appointed  to  be  composed 


THE  CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS     113 

of  the  clerical  members  of  the  convention.  It  was 
hoped  that  their  professional  gravity  might  have 
a  restraining  effect  on  those  addicted  to  the  lighter 
vein. 

The  chair  appointed  the  "  Wit  and  Wisdom  " 
of  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,  "  A  Sentimental  Jour- 
ney "  of  the  Rev.  Laurence  Sterne,  the  "  Lyrics  " 
of  the  Rev,  Robert  Herrick,  and  the  "  Complete 
Works"  of  the  Very  Reverend  Jonathan  Swift, 
Dean  of  St.  Patrick's.  The  "Dunciad  "  called  at- 
tention to  one  "  who  sits  and  shakes  in  Rabelais's 
easy  chair,"  and  said  that  it  should  not  be  forgot- 
ten that  Rabelais  was  of  the  cloth.  The  chairman 
declared  that  it  might  as  well  be  forgotten,  and 
that  he  would  so  rule. 

By  way  of  interlude,  Chesterton's  "Essays" 
consented  to  entertain  the  company  as  a  presti- 
digitator. He  was  not,  he  explained,  a  prestidigi- 
tator, but  that  made  no  difference. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  the  "Essays," 
"  I  will  not  flatter  you  by  saying  '  a  penny  for 
your  thoughts.'  I  never  pay  more  than  the  mar- 
ket price  for  such  articles;  but  I  will  ask  you  to 
lend  me  a  few  thoughts,  if  you  happen  to  have 


114    THE  CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS 

any  about  you.  Any  simple  little  thing  will  do ; 
all  I  ask  is  that  it  shall  have  been  long  enough 
in  your  possession  to  make  you  think  that  it  is 
your  own." 

Several  truisms  were  handed  up,  together  with 
one  or  two  brand-new  paradoxes. 

"Thank  you,  ladies  and  gentlemen;  be  sure 
not  to  take  your  eyes  off  your  thoughts  while  they 
are  in  my  hands;  something  might  happen  to 
them.  I  suppose  you  want  them  back?  Certainly, 
you  shall  have  them.  They  are  of  no  value  ex- 
cept to  the  owner,  but  I  understand  your  feeling 
about  them,  they  have  associations.  Here  they  are ! 
By  my  faith,  they  do  look  different. 

"  Here,  madam,  is  your  Orthodoxy,  which  you 
handed  me  just  now.  It 's  the  newest  thing  out. 
So  original !  How  did  you  get  hold  of  an  idea 
that  nobody  ever  happened  on  before?  It's  a 
great  find,  and  yet  you  were  so  demure  about  it 
I  was  deceived  at  first :  you  seemed  to  take  it  as 
a  mere  matter  of  course.  And  here,  sir,  is  your 
Heresy  which  you  allowed  me  to  examine.  If 
you  take  a  good  look  at  it,  you  will  see  the  name 
of  Athanasius  stamped  on  the  right-hand  corner. 
It 's  genuine  old-fashioned  fourth-century  ortho- 


THE  CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS     115 

doxy,  sixteen  hundred  years  old,  if  it  is  a  day.  It's 
greatly  to  your  credit  that  you  have  it  in  your 
possession,  for  I  trust  you  came  by  it  honestly. 

"  Will  any  other  lady  or  gentleman  lend  me 
a  thought?" 

Bartlett's  "Familiar  Quotations"  handed  up 
"And  things  are  not  what  they  seem." 

"Quite  so,"  said  the  "Essays,"  "that's  what 
people  generally  suppose,  but  of  course  the  fact 
is  just  the  contrary.  Things  are  things,  and  that  is 
just  what  they  seem  to  be.  It  is  you  who  are  not 
what  you  seem.  You  seem  to  be  philosophizing  on 
the  nature  of  things,  but  if  you  would  stop  to  con- 
sider you  would  be  convinced  that  you  are  doing 
nothing  of  the  kind." 

The  "Familiar  Quotations  "  acknowledged  that 
this  was  perfectly  true. 

"There  must  be  some  trick  about  all  this,  I  can 
but  think,"  said  a  small  thin  book  who  stood  at 
the  back  of  the  hall. 

"  Did  I  hear  correctly  *?  "  asked  the  "  Essays." 
"  Did  you  assert,  '  I  can  but  think '  ?  Why,  my 
dear  sir,  that  is  the  one  thing  you  cannot  do. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  suppose  some  of  you 
have  by  this  time  got  the  idea  that  I  am  quite 


ii6     THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS 

clever  and  original  because  I  have  so  many  ideas 
that  are  different  from  your  own.  I  assure  you 
that  you  are  altogether  mistaken.  It  is  you  who 
are  clever,  having  so  many  ideas  that  I  can  differ 
with.  I  am  only  a  plain,  plodding,  literal-minded 
person,  who  cannot  understand  your  brilliant  para- 
doxes. I  have  contracted  the  habit  of  contradict- 
ing them  at  sight,  and  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  it 
turns  out  that  I  am  right.  The  results  may  seem 
monotonous,  but  I  can't  help  that." 

The  Old  Librarian  shook  his  head  doubtfully, 
for  he  had  always  enjoyed  the  "  Essays,"  and  in 
spite  of  his  disclaimer  he  felt  that  he  was  really 
very  clever  after  all.  He  remembered  an  illuminat- 
ing remark  of  his:  "  I  never  in  my  life  said  any- 
thing because  I  thought  it  was  funny ;  though  of 
course  I  may  have  had  ordinary  human  vainglory 
and  may  have  thought  it  funny  because  I  said  it. 

"  It  is  one  thing  to  describe  an  interview  with 
a  gorgon  or  a  griffin  which  never  existed ;  it  is 
another  thing  to  discover  that  a  rhinoceros  does 
exist,  and  then  to  take  pleasure  in  the  fact  that 
he  looks  as  if  he  did  n't. 

"  I  think  we  owe  a  great  debt,"  said  the  Old 
Librarian,  "  to  one  who  makes  a  specialty  of  the 


THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS     117 

things  which  are  true  and  which  look  as  if  they 
were  n't.  When  the  mind  gets  sluggish  from  lack 
of  sufficiently  varied  exercise,  and  can  move  only 
one  way,  I  believe  there  is  great  benefit  in  going 
to  some  one  like  the  '  Essays '  for  vigorous  osteo- 
pathic treatment" 

The  spirit  of  the  convention  was  thoroughly 
democratic,  and  yet  there  was  a  tendency  for  cer- 
tain congenial  books  to  get  together.  Various 
groups  were  thus  formed  by  their  natural  affinity 
for  certain  readers.  No  greater  pleasure  exists  for 
the  reader  than  to  select  the  book  friends  in  whose 
company  he  has  spent  many  hours ;  and  the  books 
have  the  same  feelings.  They  always  think  that 
their  own  readers  are  the  best.  The  Old  Librarian 
had  some  compunction  of  conscience  when  he  re- 
membered that  he  had  been  compelled  to  force  so 
many  volumes  into  unnatural  and  irksome  com- 
panionship, and  to  bring  them  together  according 
to  subjects  instead  of  according  to  personal  lik- 
ings. 

He  fell  in  with  Sir  John  Lubbock's  "Best 
Books,"  and  the  "  Heart  of  Oak,"  and  many  "Se- 
lect Libraries."  There  were  little  groups  gathered 


ii8     THE  CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS 

around  veterans  who  were  giving  reminiscences 
of  readers  they  had  known.  Homer's  Iliad  told 
about  nights  he  had  spent  with  Alexander  the 
Great.  After  the  battle  they  two  would  refresh 
their  souls  with  talk  about  Achilles  and  windy 
Troy.  Plato's  "Republic"  recalled  the  converse 
with  Hadrian  and  Trajan  and  Marcus  Aurelius, 
when  they  were  doing  all  that  heroic  rulers  could 
do  to  arrest  the  decay  of  the  Roman  Empire.  When 
that  plan  failed  he  had  communed  with  Augustine 
in  regard  to  the  City  of  God  that  was  to  be  the  new 
spiritual  empire.  After  the  invasion  of  the  barba- 
rians, he  said,  he  had  taken  several  centuries  off^ 
leaving  his  friend  Aristotle  to  wrestle  with  the 
ignorance  of  the  times.  About  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury, he  had  returned  to  active  life  much  refreshed, 
and  since  then  he  had  known  intimately  all  the 
men  of  light  and  leading.  He  had,  however,  little 
time  to  dwell  upon  the  past,  as  the  twentieth-cen- 
tury problems  were  so  interesting,  and  there  seemed 
so  little  time  in  which  to  get  ready  for  the  twenty- 
first.  Whereupon  he  began  to  talk  with  all  his 
old-time  enthusiasm  about  the  future. 

Machiavelli's  "  Art  of  War  "  talked  in  a  breezy 
fashion  of  his  experience  in  Virginia,  where  he 


tHE   CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS     119 

had  gone  in  company  with  his  inseparable  friend 
Captain  John  Smith.  Many  were  the  times  when 
they  discussed  the  question  whether  the  tactics 
that  proved  effective  in  the  valley  of  the  Po,  or 
in  the  passes  of  the  Apennines,  would  be  success- 
ful against  the  Red  Indians. 

Bunyan*s  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  told  of  a  reader 
he  had  met  in  a  backwoods  cabin.  He  was  an 
unformed  lad  named  Abraham  Lincoln,  who  had 
little  acquaintance  with  books.  "  I  liked  him  none 
the  less  for  that.  I  used  to  tell  him  of  Mr.  Great- 
heart  and  Mr.  Honest  and  Mr.  Valiant-for-the- 
Truth.  One  night  I  told  him  how  Giant  Grim 
and  his  lions  blocked  the  way  of  the  pilgrims  and 
said  that  they  could  go  no  further  along  the  King's 
highway.  Now  Mr.  Greatheart  was  a  strong  man, 
so  he  was  not  afraid  of  a  lion.  And  he  said, 
'  These  women  and  children  are  going  on  a  pil- 
grimage, and  this  is  the  way  they  must  go,  and  go 
it  they  shall,  in  spite  of  thee  and  the  lions.'  I 
thought  by  the  light  in  the  boy's  eyes  that  some 
day  if  he  should  meet  Giant  Grim  and  his  lions  he 
might  prove  another  Greatheart;  and  so,  I  am 
told,  he  did." 

"  Isn't  it  remarkable,"  said  the  "Rubaiyat"  of 


I20    THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS 

Omar  Khayyam,  "what  little  incidents  will  turn 
the  whole  current  of  our  lives?  I  was  over  seven 
hundred  years  old  before  I  learned  English,  which 
I  speak  now  better  than  I  do  my  native  Persian. 
I  fell  in  quite  by  accident  with  a  European  named 
Fitz-something-or-other,  who  introduced  me  to  a 
new  circle,  so  that  I  am  now  living  a  most  excit- 
ing life.  I  find  that  my  most  enthusiastic  readers 
live  —  not  in  Ispahan,  but  in  Chicago.  I  have  a 
reader  who  every  evening  is  suspended  from  a 
strap  and  hurled  through  space  in  a  machine  in- 
vented by  a  malignant  whirling  dervish.  As  he 
sways  back  and  forth,  he  murmurs  to  himself,  — 

«  A  book  of  verses  underneath  the  Bough, 
A  Jug  of  Wine,  a  Loaf  of  Bread  —  and  Thou 
Beside  me  singing  in  the  Wilderness, 
Oh,  Wilderness  were  Paradise  enow! ' 

"By  the  way,  I  remember  what  a  hard  time  Fitz 
had  over  that  quatrain. 

" '  I  wish,'  he  said,  '  I  could  make  "  Bough  " 
rhyme  with  "Enough."' 

" '  It  looks  like  a  good  rhyme,'  I  said,  spelling 
the  words,  'e-n-o-u-g-h  rhymes  sufficiently  well 
with  b-o-u-g-h.' 

"*No,  it  does  nV  replied  Fitz;  'in  this  Ian- 


THE  CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS    121 

guage  if  words  are  spelled  the  same  they  are  pro- 
nounced differently/ 

" '  Then  why  don't  you  spell  them  differently, 
and  people  will  pronounce  them  alike  ?  * 

"  And  so  he  did,  and  now  every  one  pronounces 
*enow'  so  as  to  rhyme  with  'bough.'" 

" '  Enow '  is  a  perfectly  good  obsolete  form," 
growled  the  Century  Dictionary. 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  it,"  said  the  "  Rubaiyat." 

In  wandering  about,  the  Old  Librarian  found 
himself  in  the  Hall  of  Fame.  Since  the  time 
when  oral  tradition  became  untrustworthy  the 
reputations  of  distinguished  men  have  been  en- 
trusted to  books.  Many  of  the  older  monuments 
in  the  Hall  were  crumbling  and  their  inscriptions 
were  illegible,  but  the  newer  portions  presented 
a  scene  of  brisk  activity.  Monuments  were  being 
prepared  for  an  enormous  number  of  candidates 
for  immortality. 

"What  an  infernal  rush!"  muttered  Haydn's 
"Dictionary  of  Dates."  "  In  the  old  times  we  were 
not  expected  to  put  down  a  man's  name  till  a 
century  after  his  death.  Then  if  we  forgot  what 
his  name  was  there  was  no  one  else  to  remember 


122   THE  CONVENTION   OF  BOOKS 

and  make  trouble.  But  now  if  a  distinguished 
citizen  does  not  find  his  name  mentioned  in 
'  Who 's  Who '  he  calls  at  the  office  and  inquires 
angrily,  'What's  What;  and  Why?'" 

"It's  nothing  to  what  it  is  on  my  continent," 
said  "  Who 's  Who  in  South  Africa."  "  Elsewhere 
genius  is  sporadic,  with  us  it 's  epidemic." 

"It's  even  more  so  down  our  way,"  said 
"  Who 's  Who  in  Australasia."  "  Do  you  happen 
to  know  how  many  poets  we  have  *?  Pray,  look 
at  my  list.  They  are  all  famous.  I  suppose  that 
there's  something  in  the  climate  that  accounts 
for  it.  Our  poets  have  multiplied  prodigiously, 
owing  to  the  absence  of  their  natural  enemies,  the 
critics.    You  know  our  poets,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Never  heard  of  them,"  said  "  Who 's  Who 
in  Massachusetts." 

"  What 's  Massachusetts  ?  "  inquired  "  Who 's 
Who  in  Australasia."  "  Why  does  n't  some  one 
provide  us  with  a  '  Where 's  Where  *  ?  " 

"  That  reminds  me ,"  murmured  Longfellow's 
Poems,  absent-mindedly,  — 

«*When  Mazarvan  the  Magician 

Journeyed  westward  through  Cathay, 
Nothing  heard  he  but  the  praises 
Of  Badoura  on  his  way. 


THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS    123 

"  But  the  lessening  rumor  ended 
When  he  came  to  Khaledan, 
There  the  folk  were  talkmg  only 
Of  Prince  Camaralzaman. 

**  So  it  happens  with  the  poets : 
Every  province  hath  its  own  ; 
Camaralzaman  is  famous 

Where  Badoura  is  unknown." 

The  Old  Librarian  was  convinced  of  the  wis- 
dom of  those  who  urged  the  over-ambitious  read- 
ers to  make  the  intimate  acquaintance  of  a  few 
good  books  who  would  stay  by  them  through  life. 
For  their  own  pleasure  and  profit  they  must  make 
a  choice  of  friends,  and  a  few  real  friends  are 
worth  a  host  of  ill-assorted  acquaintances.  He  was 
not  therefore  disturbed  by  the  good-natured  chaff- 
ing which  always  accompanies  the  attempt  at 
bringing  together  those  who  ought  to  know  each 
other. 

There  are  little  jealousies  among  books,  and  it  is 
impossible  to  please  all  of  them.  He  was  con- 
scious of  this  when,  in  a  corner  of  the  hall,  he  saw 
a  number  of  books  chosen  for  their  especial  ser- 
viceableness  being  seated  on  a  divan  five  feet 
long.  Each  as  his  name  was  called  came  forward 


124  THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS 

with  a  look  of  modest  merit,  while  betraying  a 
momentary  surprise  as  he  glanced  at  his  neighbor. 
This  is  only  book-nature.  "John  Woolman*s 
Journal,"  finding  himself  not  far  from  the  "Ara- 
bian Nights,"  was  ill  at  ease. 

"Friend,  I  fear  thou  art  one  of  the  world's 
people,  being  decked  in  gay  apparel.  I  warn  thee 
against  vanities." 

He  was  reassured  by  seeing  one  of  William 
Penn's  works  in  close  converse  with  Adam  Smith's 
"  Wealth  of  Nations." 

Five  feet,  though  ample  to  accommodate  any 
one  reader's  intimate  book  friends,  is  rather  a  small 
space,  and  however  wise  the  choice,  some  excel- 
lent candidates  are  sure  to  be  left  out.  This  neces- 
sarily causes  criticism. 

When  "  A  Blot  in  the  'Scutcheon  "  was  invited, 
there  was  some  hard  feeling  among  the  other 
works  of  Robert  Browning.  "  Saul "  maintained  a 
dignified  silence,  and  "  Sordello  "  looked  on  with 
enigmatic  calm ;  but  "  Pippa  Passes  "  whispered 
pettishly  to  "The  Ring  and  the  Book."  Some 
people,  she  said,  were  just  as  good  as  some  other 
people. 

Most  of  the  invited  books  were  quite  sober. 


THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS    125 

but  "  Tarn  O'Shanter  "  was  evidently  a  little  in- 
toxicated by  his  success.  "  Sorry  that  you  've  been 
left  out,"  he  said  to  Wordsworth's  "  Excursion," 
slapping  him  on  the  back.  "  But  we  don't  think 
any  less  of  you  because  you  are  not  in  our  set. 
As  a  friend  of  mine  said,  '  A  book 's  a  book  for  a' 
that  and  a'  that.' " 

"  When  it 's  so  crowded,"  answered  the  "  Ex- 
cursion," "you  have  the  advantage  over  me  in 
being  rather  slight." 

"Good-morrow!"  said  Walton's  "Compleat 
Angler  "  to  Emerson's  "  Essays."  "  It 's  pleasant 
to  see  new  faces.  We  old  fellows  find  such  occa- 
sions a  little  sad.  So  many  old  friends  drop  out. 
I  am  a  survivor  of  Dr.  Johnson's  list  of  service- 
able books.  You  know  he  made  out  a  list  for 
young  Mr.  Astle  of  Ashbourne  in  Derbyshire,  bro- 
ther of  the  learned  and  ingenious  Thomas  Astle, 
Esquire.  It  was  the  first  time  that  my  name  had 
been  mentioned  in  this  way.  No  other  honors  have 
ever  given  me  such  pleasure.  Perhaps  you  would 
like  to  know  some  of  my  companions  at  that 
time.  I  have  the  list  in  Dr.  Johnson's  own  hand- 
writing. Among  them  are  Puffendorf  s '  Introduc- 
tion to  History,'  Carte's  '  History  of  England,' 


126   THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS 

Clarendon's  '  History/  '  The  Duty  of  Man,' 
Watt's  'Improvement  of  the  Mind,'  Sherlock's 
'  Sermons,'  Law's  '  Serious  Call,'  Prideaux's 
'Connection,'  Shuckford's  'Connection,'  'Na- 
ture Displayed.'  I  could  hardly  believe  it  when 
I  found  myself  in  that  distinguished  company, 
actually  seated  between  Law's  '  Serious  Call '  and 
Sandys's  '  Travels.'  This,  I  said,  is  fame." 

The  "Compleat  Angler"  was  almost  over- 
come by  his  emotion. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said ;  "  as  one  of  my  good 
friends  has  taken  my  seat,  I  will  go  down 
on  the  floor  and  see  if  I  can't  find  some  of  the 
old  crowd  and  arrange  for  a  reunion.  Ah !  I  see 
Clarendon's  '  History.'  He 's  still  extant,  though 
he  looks  a  little  lonely.  I  see  the  '  Serious  Call,' 
but  where 's  '  The  Duty  of  Man '  ?  I  wish  I  could 
come  across  Sandys's  '  Travels.'  And  here,  last  and 
not  least  on  Dr.  Johnson's  list,  are  '  Some  Com- 
mentaries on  the  Bible.'  I  wish  I  could  remember 
which  they  were.  I  wonder  if  I  shall  recognize 
them.  There  is  such  a  strong  family  resemblance 
among  commentaries.  I  am  afraid  I  should  not 
know  '  Nature  Displayed,'  though  I  have  a  vague 


THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS    127 

recollection  that  he  was  a  great  swell  in  his 
day." 

At  last  they  were  all  seated. 

"Rather  a  tight  squeeze,"  said  Plutarch's 
"Lives," 

"Yes,"  said  Bacon's  "Essays,"  "reading  maketh 
a  full  man." 

"Where's  Shakespeare's  Works?"  inquired 
Marlowe's  "  Dr.  Faustus." 

"You  may  search  me,"  said  Bacon's  "Es- 
says." 

They  were  so  pleasant  and  cheery  that  the  Old 
Librarian  was  impelled  to  go  about  and  seek  out 
his  own  cronies  and  bring  them  together  in  some 
little  space.  They  were  good  friends,  whom  he 
was  always  happy  to  meet.  It  was  only  when 
he  got  them  together  that  he  was  aware  what 
a  miscellaneous  collection  they  were.  The  only 
thing  which  they  had  in  common  was  his  lik- 
ing for  them,  but  this  it  proved  was  a  sufficient 
bond. 

It  was  quite  late  when  a  party  of  gay  young 
volumes  of  fashion  who  had  been  attending  a 
coming-out  party  of  one  of  their  number,  passed 


128   THE  CONVENTION  OF  BOOKS 

through  the  corridors.  As  they  looked  into  a  tiny 
room  they  saw  the  Old  Librarian  seated  in  the 
middle  of  a  circle  of  cheerful  old  volumes.  They 
were  singing,  — 

"  Should  auld  acquaintance  be  forgot. 
And  the  days  of  auld  lang  syne  ?" 

"  I  wonder,"  said  the  youngest  of  the  party, 
"  whether  any  of  us  will  ever  give  so  much  plea- 


IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS 


"  T  HAD  as  lief  be  a  Brownlst  as  a  politician," 
A  said  bibulous  Sir  Andrew  Ague-cheek.  Sir 
Andrew  expressed  the  sentiment  of  his  class.  Since 
the  time  when  a  little  band  of  Brownists  sailed 
away  to  Massachusetts  Bay,  the  sect  has  come 
into  better  repute,  but  "politician"  is  still  used  as  a 
term  of  disparagement.  And  curiously  enough,  it 
is  never  so  frequently  used  in  this  way  as  among 
the  descendants  of  those  Brownists  who  in  the 
cabin  of  the  Mayflower  organized  themselves  into 
a  "  body  politic." 

European  observers  continually  express  sur- 
prise at  the  American  attitude  toward  politics.  In 
England,  politics  is  the  national  sport.  People 
follow  each  move  with  eager  interest,  and  discuss 
the  idiosyncrasies  of  the  players.  The  debates  in 
Parliament,  with  the  thrust  and  counterthrust  of 
keen  wit,  furnish  entertainment  for  the  kingdom. 
It  is  preeminently  a  gentleman's  game,  and  suc- 
cess gives  real  distinction. 


I30    IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS 

In  America  we  do  not  exhibit  such  a  sports- 
manlike spirit.  We  take  our  political  pleasures 
sadly.  The  average  American  citizen  admits  that 
politicians  need  watching,  but  it  does  not  occur 
to  him  that  it  is  as  interesting  to  watch  them  as 
to  watch  a  football  game.  There  is  a  sinister  sug- 
gestion in  the  phrase  "to  play  politics." 

There  are  several  reasons  for  this  lack  of  ap- 
preciation. For  one  thing,  the  rules  which  we  have 
adopted  make  the  game  itself  less  interesting  to 
the  spectator  than  it  is  in  some  other  countries. 
In  the  British  Parliament  a  crisis  may  come  at 
any  time.  An  alert  opposition  is  always  waiting 
for  a  chance  to  turn  the  government  out.  A  mis- 
take has  results  that  are  immediate.  There  is  a 
spectacular  appeal  to  the  country.  In  Washing- 
ton a  majority  party  may  make  the  most  stupid 
blunder,  and  nothing  happens  except  that  it  goes 
on  becoming  more  stupid.  When  the  people 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  it  is  in  a  permanently 
comatose  condition,  they  decently  remove  it  from 
its  sphere  of  non-action. 

The  territorial  magnitude  of  the  United  States 
makes  it  difficult  to  focus  attention  on  any  one 
place.  In  a  compact  country  where  the  newspapers 


IN   PRAISE   OF  POLITICIANS     131 

of  the  capital  reach  every  part  on  the  same  day, 
it  is  easy  to  become  acquainted  with  all  the  prin- 
cipal contestants.  The  spectators  have  an  unre- 
stricted view  of  the  field.  But  it  is  hard  to  interest 
the  people  of  Maine  and  the  people  of  Idaho  in 
the  same  persons  or  policies.  It  takes  an  appre- 
ciable length  of  time  for  a  wave  of  public  opinion 
to  cross  the  continent.  The  "favorite  son"  of  one 
state  may  have  all  the  virtues  necessary  for  a  na- 
tional hero,  but  it  is  a  task  of  some  magnitude 
and  difficulty  to  advertise  his  existence  to  forty 
or  forty-five  oblivious  commonwealths,  especially 
if  their  attention  is  distracted  by  favorite  sons  of 
their  own. 

All  this  is  but  to  say  that  the  way  of  the  poli- 
tician is  hard,  but  beyond  this  is  the  fact  that  his 
calling  is  not  highly  esteemed.  A  machine  used 
in  mixing  cement  is  advertised  as  "  The  Mixer 
that  makes  money."  The  ordinary  American  would 
accept  this  as .  an  adequate  definition  of  a  poli- 
tician. 

One  learns  after  a  while  not  to  quarrel  with  the 
Dictionary.  If  a  word  falls  into  bad  habits  of 
thought  and  takes  up  wicked  associations,  it  is 
usually  impossible  to  reforrn  it.  There,  for  exam- 


132     IN    PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS 

pie,  is  the  word  "  villain."  It  originally  indicated 
a  farm  laborer.  Poor  fellow,  he  had  a  hard  time 
and  was  more  sinned  against  than  sinning.  But 
the  gentry  who  sinned  against  him  had  more  in- 
fluence than  he  in  making  the  language.  Their 
grumblings  against  his  shortcomings  have  been 
incorporated  into  English  speech,  and  now  we 
think  of  a  villain  as  a  very  bad  character  —  indeed 
one  of  the  worst.  My  blood  boils  —  philologically 
considered  —  when  I  think  of  the  bundle  of  pre- 
judices bound  up  in  this  single  word.  But  what 
can  I  do  about  it?  If  at  a  meeting  for  the  Uplift 
of  Country  Life  I  were  to  express  my  sympathy 
with  all  villains,  and  declare  that  I  would  like  to 
return  to  the  soil  and  do  the  work  of  a  villain,  I 
am  sure  my  remarks  would  be  misconstrued.  If 
my  speech  were  reported,  I  should  lose  member- 
ship in  the  Grange. 

In  this  case  we  let  the  unfortunate  word  go, 
because  we  have  another  to  describe  the  agricul- 
tural sons  of  toil.  We  can  talk  of  "churls"  and 
"villains"  without  any  indignity  to  labor.  The 
history  of  such  words  is  instructive.  First  the 
word  is  descriptive  of  a  class ;  then  it  becomes  a 
term  of  reproach  for  that  class;  then  the  class 


IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS     133 

emerges  from  the  shadow  of  reproach  and  the 
word  is  left  hanging  in  mid-air.  It  is  a  garment 
of  dispraise  left  for  evil-doers  in  general. 

We  might  leave  the  word  "politician"  to  be 
used  in  the  bad  sense  if  we  had  another  which  we 
might  use  in  a  good  sense. 

The  shifty,  self-seeking  politician  has  always 
been  a  well-known  character.  He  stands  in  the 
same  relation  to  serious  politics  that  the  shyster 
does  to  the  profession  of  law,  or  the  quack  to 
medicine.  Every  army  has  its  camp-followers, 
every  living  body  its  parasites.  But  in  this  case 
the  lower  has  not  only  usurped  the  name  of  the 
higher,  but  has  also  obscured  its  function.  The 
term  "politician"  has  been  handed  over  to  the 
political  quack,  and  we  have  no  name  left  by 
which  to  designate  the  regular  practitioner.  It  is  as 
if  we  had  only  one  name  for  all  who  do  business 
on  the  great  waters,  and  were  unable  to  discrimi- 
nate between  the  merchant  and  the  pirate. 

We  make  an  attempt  to  disguise  our  verbal 
poverty  by  speaking  highly  of  the  impeccable 
person  whom  we  call  a  "  statesman."  But  this  lip- 
service  is  hollow.  If  you  were  to  ask  for  a  list  of 
contemporary  statesmen,  you  would  be  told  that 


134    IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS 

your  inquiry  was  premature.  The  statesman  is  an 
historical  character.  His  virtues  are  associated 
with  obituaries.  Moreover,  the  conception  of  a 
statesman  does  not  include  that  which  is  funda- 
mental to  the  politician,  namely,  the  ability  to 
get  himself  elected. 

We  have  borrowed  from  the  Romans  the  term 
"  candidate,"  or  white-robed  one.  The  Roman  citi- 
zen announced  his  willingness  to  serve  the  Re- 
public in  an  official  position  by  appearing  in  a 
loose  white  toga.  It  was  white  to  symbolize  the 
candor  of  his  nature,  and  was  worn  loose  so  that 
he  might  more  easily  display  his  scars.  Our  politi- 
cal prudery  makes  us  shrink  from  the  idea  of  open 
candidacy.  The  demure  statesman  of  the  popular 
imagination  is  supposed  to  act  strictly  on  the  prin- 
ciple that  the  office  must  seek  the  man.  But  we 
should  hardly  call  one  a  politician  who  was  not 
willing  to  meet  the  office  at  least  halfway.  He 
would  say,  "My  dear  Office,  I  hear  that  you  are 
seeking  a  Man.  It  is  a  pleasant  coincidence,  for 
here  I  am." 

Milton  ventured  to  use  the  word  "politicaster  " 
to  indicate  the  person  who  stands  to  the  real  poli- 
tician in  the  same  relation  that  the  poetaster  does 


IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS     135 

to  the  poet.  He  is  one  of  the  large  and  ambitious 
family  of  the  Would-Be's.  He  imitates  what  he 
is  incapable  of  understanding.  Let  us  adopt  the 
term  politicaster,  and  then  enjoy  the  experience 
of  expressing  our  heartfelt  admiration'for  the  hon- 
orable and  quick-witted  gentlemen  who  bear  with- 
out reproach  the  grand  old  name  of  politician ;  a 
name  "  defamed  by  every  charlatan,  and  soiled  by 
all  ignoble  use." 

The  politicaster  shall  be  our  scapegoat.  We 
shall  hurl  at  him  all  the  familiar  disparaging  epi- 
thets, we  shall  put  upon  him  all  the  shame  of  our 
cities  and  the  disgraces  of  our  legislatures,  and 
send  him  into  the  wilderness.  Then  we  may  sit 
down  and  converse  on  the  most  interesting  and 
important  of  all  human  aflfairs — politics — and 
on  the  men  who  choose  politics  as  a  lifework. 

But  because  the  poor  politicaster  is  a  sinner, 
we  need  not  disdain  to  learn  from  him  something 
as  to  the  nature  of  politics.  The  dullest  poetaster 
who  ever  put  pen  to  paper  can  tell  us  something 
about  verse.  He  knows,  for  example,  that  the 
lines  begin  with  capital  letters,  and  that  they  end 
with  a  rhyme,  unless  it  be  blank  verse.  All  this 
is,  as  Carlyle  would  say,  "significant  of  much."  It 


136     IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS 

indicates  the  important  fact  that  poetry  is  in  some 
way  or  other  different  from  prose.  Many  scientific 
teachers  of  literature  never  find  this  out;  the  poet- 
aster discovers  it  because  he  has  been  trying  to 
make  poetry,  though  he  has  hard  luck. 

So  the  politicaster  is  trying  to  be  a  politician 
according  to  his  lights.  He  discovers  that  politics 
is  different  from  some  other  things,  as  for  instance 
from  a  Sunday  School.  This  discovery  fills  him 
with  such  glee  that  he  never  tires  of  proclaiming 
it.  He  also  discovers  that  politics  is  different  from 
a  Nervine  Institute.  He  assures  you  that  he  is 
not  in  politics  for  his  health.  He  is  able  to  see 
that  politics  may  be  differentiated  from  Jurispru- 
dence and  Moral  Science  and  many  other  excel- 
lent things.  He  learns  that  it  may  have  an  exist- 
ence that  is  independent  of  the  sister  arts  of 
Grammar  or  Elocution.  He  knows  that  in  order 
to  have  "  influence  "  it  is  not  necessary  to  thrill 
listening  senates.  Indeed,  he  has  observed  that, 
for  the  most  part,  senates  do  not  listen.  He  re- 
solves to  practice  the  industrial  virtues.  While 
the  Scholar  in  Politics  is  delighting  the  intellec- 
tuals who  do  not  frequent  the  polls,  the  humble 
politicaster   "saws  wood,"   "grinds    axes,"  and 


IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS     137 

"looks  after  his  fences,"  and  "rolls  logs,"  and 
walks  softly  in  "  gum  shoes." 

The  Honorable  George  Washington  Plunkett 
of  Tammany  Hall  declared  that  he  wished  but 
one  inscription  to  be  placed  upon  his  tombstone : 
"  He  seen  his  opportunity  and  he  took  it."  Here 
you  have  the  starting-point  of  all  politics,  good 
or  bad.  Opportunism  is  the  protoplasm  out  of 
which  all  varieties  are  evolved.  Politics  consists 
not  in  making  programmes,  or  in  passing  judg- 
ment on  accomplished  facts,  but  in  seeing  and 
seizing  opportunities.  Now,  opportunities  are 
kittle  cattle.  They  do  not  stand  around  waiting 
to  be  taken  home  and  brought  up  by  hand.  A 
man  may  be  very  honorable,  and  conscientious, 
and  even  erudite,  and  may  never  have  seen  an 
opportunity  in  his  life.  The  politicaster  is  looking 
for  small  opportunities,  —  for  such  pickings  and 
stealings  as  a  careless  public  may  leave  for  those 
of  his  kind.  The  great  politician  is  looking  for 
great  opportunities.  He  knows  that  he  can  do 
nothing  till  they  come,  but  he  must  be  prepared 
to  recognize  them  instantly,  and  to  grasp  them 
in  the  brief  moment  when  they  are  within  his 
reach. 


138     IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS 

Said  Abraham  Lincoln,  "  I  claim  not  to  have 
controlled  events,  but  confess  that  events  have 
controlled  me.  Now  at  the  end  of  three  years' 
struggle  the  nation's  condition  is  not  what  either 
party  or  any  man  desired  or  expected." 

There  spoke  not  the  dignified  statesman  of  the 
academic  tradition  who  moulds  events  as  the 
sculptor  moulds  his  clay.  Lincoln  spoke  as  a  high- 
minded,  quick-witted  politician,  dealing,  as  every 
politician  must,  with  the  unexpected.  Events  hap- 
pen. The  politician  happens  along  at  the  same 
time.  Their  encounter  makes  history.  The  man 
of  science  can  prepare  for  his  experiments  in  the 
laboratory.  He  can  literally  make  experiments. 
Not  so  the  politician.  He  cannot  make  an  ex- 
periment, he  is  an  experiment.  And  if  he  fails  he 
is  not  sure  that  the  public  will  care  to  make  him 
again. 

"Life,"  said  Marcus  Aurelius,  "is  not  so  much 
like  dancing  as  like  wrestling."  That  is  to  say,  the 
movements  are  not  determined  by  music,  but  by 
the  motions  of  an  alert  antagonist  —  it  is  catch  as 
catch  can.  Abraham  Lincoln  and  Marcus  Aurelius 
and  George  Washington  Plunk  ett  would  agree 
that  politics  consists,  not  in  the  acceptance  of 


IN   PRAISE   OF  POLITICIANS     139 

abstract  formulas,  but  in  being  quick  to  catch 
opportunities.  The  difference  of  opinion  would 
come  in  the  answer  to  the  question,  "  Opportuni- 
ties for  what  ?  " 

Matthew  Arnold,  writing  of  Man  and  Nature, 
says,  — 

Know,  man  hath  all  which  Nature  hath,  but  more. 
And  m  that  more  lie  all  his  hopes  of  good. 

One  may  say  that  the  good  politician  has  all 
that  the  politicaster  has  and  more,  and  in  that 
more  lies  all  his  hope  of  winning  the  lasting  ad- 
miration of  mankind ;  but  his  high  disinterested 
virtues  must  be  built  upon  political  virtues  of  the 
common  sort.  The  politician  must  not  be  above 
his  business.  He  must  be  "  a  good  mixer,"  he  must 
understand  the  meaning  of  loyalty  to  friends  and 
comrades,  he  must  have  a  shrewd  sense  of  the 
difference  between  an  accomplished  fact  and  a 
work  that  it  is  desirable  to  accomplish,  he  must 
know  the  value  and  the  limitation  of  organiza- 
tion, he  must  be  sensitive  to  public  opinion  and 
must  not  confound  it  with  the  opinion  of  his  own 
class.  Dealing  with  human  nature,  he  must  know 
the  strength  of  his  materials,  he  must  be  quick- 
witted and  patient  and  tolerant,  and  if  he  falls  he 


I40    IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS 

must  be  able  to  pick  himself  up  before  other 
people  know  that  he  has  fallen. 

The  work  necessary  for  obtaining  influence 
which  the  politicaster  does  furtively,  the  man 
who  takes  politics  seriously  does  with  noble  and 
engaging  frankness.  Even  log-rolling  may  be 
redeemed  from  its  vulgar  implications.  After  all, 
the  old-time  merry-making  of  the  frontier  fur- 
nished the  best  symbol  of  political  action  in  a 
democracy.  All  the  settlers  gathered  in  the  clear- 
ings to  do  together  what  no  one  could  do  alone. 
"  You  help  roll  my  logs  and  I  will  help  roll  yours." 
In  this  reciprocity  in  effort  there  was  nothing  un- 
worthy. It  is  only  when  the  bargain  is  under- 
handed and  cannot  be  proclaimed  in  the  light  of 
day,  that  it  becomes  dangerous. 

The  good  politician  rolls  his  logs  in  public, 
and  is  not  ashamed  of  his  job.  He  needs  the  help 
of  others,  and  he  knows  that  others  need  his  help. 
When  a  hundred  honorable  men  come  together, 
each  with  a  purpose  of  his  own,  each  must  expect 
to  yield  something  if  he  is  to  gain  anything.  It  is 
likely  that  more  than  one  good  measure  will  be 
proposed,  and  if  one  is  skillful,  good  measures 
may  be  made  to  help  one  another.  Here,  without 


IN  PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS     141 

any  sacrifice  of  honor,  is  a  wide  field  for  good  fel- 
lowship and  tolerance.  The  austere,  uncompro- 
mising patriot,  whose  mind  is  impenetrable  when  it 
is  once  made  up,  who  is  incapable  of  sympathiz- 
ing with  other  men's  aspirations,  and  who  insists 
on  all  or  nothing,  is  an  egotist  who  does  great 
service  when  he  happens  to  be  right.  Unfortu- 
nately it  often  happens  that  he  is  wrong,  and  then 
his  private  conscience  must  be  overcome  by  the 
common  sense  of  the  crowd. 

The  politicaster  is  a  mere  time-server.  The 
politician  also  aspires  to  serve  the  time,  but  in 
more  manly  fashion.  He  must  meditate  long  on 
the  third  chapter  of  Ecclesiastes :  "  To  every  thing 
there  is  a  season,  and  a  time  to  every  purpose 
under  the  heaven:  ...  a  time  to  plant,  and  a 
time  to  pluck  up  that  which  is  planted ;  .  .  .  a 
time  to  break  down,  and  a  time  to  build  up  ;  .  .  . 
a  time  to  cast  away  stones,  and  a  time  to  gather 
stones  together ;  .  .  .  a  time  to  keep  silence,  and 
a  time  to  speak ;  a  time  to  love,  and  a  time  to 
hate ;  a  time  of  war,  and  a  time  of  peace." 

The  politician's  problem  is  to  know  when  these 
times  come  around.  There  is  no  one  to  help  him. 
He  must  be  his  own  alarm-clock.  It  is  of  the  na- 


142     IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS 

ture  of  his  calling  that  his  duty  is  unpredictable. 
His  conscience  can  keep  no  regular  office-hours. 
It  must  be  prepared  at  any  moment  for  a  hurry 
call  It  must  be  "to  true  occasion  true." 

But  what  is  the  occasion^  Does  it  demand 
boldness  or  moderation  ?  Should  he  go  slowly  or 
with  decisive  swiftness  ?  His  political  sagacity  is 
tested  by  his  dealings  with  facts  which  he  cannot 
fully  understand.  It  is  not  a  written  examination 
to  which  he  is  subjected  when  he  has  ample  leisure 
to  present  his  matured  thought.  He  must  be  able 
to  read  the  signs  of  the  times  at  sight. 

One  reason  why  we  are  likely  to  speak  slight- 
ingly of  the  ethics  of  the  politician  is  that  he  can 
never  exhibit  his  good  qualities  systematically. 
Benjamin  Franklin  tells  us  how  he  developed  his 
character  by  choosing  thirteen  virtues,  and,  for  con- 
venience in  book-keeping,  practicing  only  one  at 
a  time.  By  giving  a  week  to  each  virtue,  he  was 
able  to  go  through  a  course  complete  in  thirteen 
weeks,  and  four  courses  in  a  year. 

Franklin's  method  seems  more  adapted  to  his 
earlier  life  as  a  tradesman  than  to  his  later  career 
as  a  politician.  The  politician  cannot  arrange  his 
moral  stock-in-trade  in  an  orderly  fashion,  and 


IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS     143 

have  a  special  bargain-day  for  each  virtue.  When 
the  Occasion  demands  bold  action,  it  will  hardly 
do  to  ask  it  to  call  again,  as  this  week  is  devoted 
to  Caution  and  General  Benevolence. 

That  formal  consistency  which  is  so  much  ad- 
mired in  good  society  is  not  for  him.  A  member 
of  Parliament  solemnly  declared  to  the  House, 
"  I  take  my  stand  on  progress."  Whereupon  Dis- 
raeli remarked,  "  It  occurs  to  me  that  progress  is 
a  somewhat  slippery  thing  to  take  one's  stand  on." 
The  fact  is  that  under  such  circumstances  a  digni- 
fied stand  is  hardly  possible ;  the  best  one  can  do 
is  to  keep  moving. 

The  politician  must  expect  to  be  misunderstood 
by  those  who  do  not  deal  with  his  large  and  com- 
plicated problems.  His  moral  courage  is  tested 
by  the  way  in  which  he  meets  the  criticism  of 
those  who  should  be  his  friends,  but  who  unfortu- 
nately are  not.  Cardinal  Newman  wrote,  — 

Time  was  I  shrank  from  what  was  right 
From  fear  of  what  was  wrong. 

He  tells  us  how  at  last  he  cast  aside  that  "  finer 
sense  "  and  that  "  sorer  shame  "  because  he  learned 
that  "such  dread  of  sin  was  indolence." 


144    IN  PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS 

It  is  a  lesson  that  the  high-minded  politician 
learns.  There  is  a  moral  indolence  which  mani- 
fests itself  in  dread  of  sin  and  of  any  personal  con- 
tact with  sinners.  When  any  radical  measure  of 
reform  is  proposed,  the  reformer  must  be  prepared 
to  meet,  not  only  the  opposition  of  those  whose 
selfish  interests  have  been  disturbed,  but  the  op- 
position of  good  people  who  have  been  made 
uncomfortable  by  his  revelations  of  unwelcome 
truth. 

When  he  has  overcome  this  twofold  opposi- 
tion and  has  begun  constructive  work,  he  will 
meet  the  criticism  of  the  pure  idealists,  who,  see- 
ing that  he  has  done  so  much,  now  demand  of 
him  an  impossible  perfection. 

I  have  always  sympathized  with  Hercules. 
After  each  labor  he  would  come  home  tired,  but 
feeling  that  he  had  done  a  creditable  day's  work. 
Being  human,  —  or  at  least  half-human,  —  Her- 
cules would  wait  for  a  bit  of  appreciation.  At  last 
he  would  say  modestly, — 

"  I  wrestled  to-day  with  the  Nemean  lion  and  I 
rather  think  I  got  the  best  of  him." 

"  That 's  nothing,"  would  be  the  chilly  answer. 
"  It  is  a  mere  temporizing  with  evil.  While  you 


IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS     145 

are  about  it  why  don't  you  slay  the  Lemean 
hydra  *?  A  lion  is  a  mere  detail,  the  hydra  is  the 
thing." 

When  he  had  come  back  from  cleansing  the 
Augean  stables,  he  would  be  reminded  that  he 
had  n't  seized  the  girdle  of  the  Queen  of  the  Ama- 
zons, or  brought  the  golden  apples  from  the  Gar- 
den of  the  Hesperides,  or  brought  up  Cerberus 
from  Hades.  He  probably  was  afraid  of  the  dog. 

Such  twitting  on  facts  must  be  expected  by 
every  one  who  leaves  the  "still  air"  of  delightful 
studies  "to  plunge  into  a  sea  of  noises  and  hoarse 
disputes."  The  politician  deals  confessedly  with 
the  Expedient.  Now,  it  is  the  fate  of  the  Expedi- 
ent to  be  brought  always  into  comparison  with 
the  Best.  Indeed,  the  Expedient  is  a  poor  rela- 
tion of  the  Best,  —  it  is  the  Best  Possible  under 
the  Circumstances.  It  is  a  superlative  that  has 
gone  into  business  and  must  work  for  its  living. 
It  has  to  be  a  good  manager  in  order  to  get  along 
at  all;  and  its  rich  relatives,  the  Absolute  Bests  of 
Utopia  Centre,  are  always  blaming  it  because  it 
does  not  get  on  faster. 

Because  the  politician  is  concerned  with  ques- 
tions of  expediency,  it  does  not  follow  that  his 


146     IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS 

morality  is  less  high  than  that  of  his  critics.  It 
only  means  that  his  moral  problems  are  more  com- 
plicated than  theirs.  He  has  not  merely  to  satisfy 
his  personal  conscience,  but  to  appeal  to  the  con- 
sciences of  those  whose  cooperation  is  necessary 
for  any  large  undertaking.  In  every  decision  he 
has  to  consider  the  actual  alternative,  and  assume 
responsibility  for  results.  He  has  in  mind,  not  a 
single  circumstance,  but  always  a  train  of  circum- 
stances. 

As  there  is  preventive  medicine,  so  there  is 
preventive  politics.  It  deals  with  evils  before  they 
have  time  to  develop.  It  treats  causes  rather  than 
symptoms.  The  practitioner  of  preventive  politics 
is  looked  upon  with  distrust  by  those  of  the  old 
school.  They  treat  the  ills  of  yesterday  according 
to  well-known  formulas,  but  it  seems  to  them 
visionary  to  attempt  to  forestall  the  ills  of  to- 
morrow. 

Because  of  its  compleirity,  politics  has  often 
been  treated  as  a  black  art.  Indeed,  its  ways  have 
at  many  times  been  devious  and  dark.  But,  like 
all  other  arts,  its  general  trend  is  toward  simpli- 
city. The  modern  Boss,  who  prides  himself  on  his 
Machiavellian  craft,  and  who  seeks  to  accom- 


IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS     147 

plish  results  by  indirection,  is  a  quaint  survival 
of  a  former  order  of  things.  His  old-fashioned 
methods  are  those  which  were  highly  successful 
in  the  days  before  compulsory  education  and  the 
daily  newspaper  and  the  telegraph  and  the  tele- 
phone enabled  the  people  to  have  that  familiarity 
with  their  bosses  which  breeds  contempt. 

Machiavelli  based  his  statecraft  on  the  assump- 
tion that  deceit  deceives.  He  informed  his  prince 
that  it  was  necessary  to  cultivate  the  good-will  of 
his  people,  for  on  this  his  power  ultimately  de- 
pended. Now,  the  people  demanded  of  their  rulers 
fidelity,  friendship,  humanity,  and  religion.  Said 
the  political  adviser,  "  It  is  unnecessary  for  a  prince 
to  have  all  these  good  qualities  which  I  have 
enumerated,  but  it  is  very  necessary  to  appear  to 
have  them."  He  goes  on  to  say  that  it  would  be 
a  decided  advantage  not  to  have  qualities  which 
one  should  appear  to  have,  as  it  would  leave  much 
greater  freedom  of  action. 

The  art  of  politics  as  thus  expounded  is  sim- 
plicity itself  It  is  to  tell  lies  in  such  a  manner  as 
not  to  get  found  out  till  the  lies  have  had  time 
to  do  their  work.  Of  course,  a  lie  has  its  natural 
enemies  who  will  eventually  get  the  better  of  it; 


148     IN   PRAISE   OF   POLITICIANS 

but  if  it  has  a  sufficient  start  it  will  accomplish 
its  purpose. 

It  will  be  seen  that  this  method  of  statecraft 
depends  for  its  success  on  a  time-allowance. 
There  must  be  a  sufficient  interval  between  the 
utterance  of  the  political  lie  and  its  refutation.  A 
lie  must  get  itself  believed  by  its  victims  for  a 
long  enough  time  to  allow  them  to  act  upon  it. 
Otherwise  it  is  "  a  vain  thing  for  safety." 

Up  to  comparatively  recent  times  these  condi- 
tions existed.  It  might  be  months  after  an  event 
happened  before  it  was  known  to  any  but  a  little 
circle  of  the  initiated.  Under  such  conditions  the 
arts  of  concealment  flourished. 

Among  the  English  gentlemen  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  there  was  none  of  nobler  disposi- 
tion than  Sir  Henry  Wotton.  He  wrote  with 
perfect  sincerity,  — 

How  happy  is  he  bom  or  taught 
Who  scrveth  not  another's  will. 
Whose  armor  is  his  honest  thought. 
And  simple  truth  his  utmost  skill. 

But  Sir  Henry  Wotton  was  also  an  accomplished 
diplomat,  and  on  his  way  to  Venice  as  ambassador 
of  James  I  he  gave  his  famous  definition,  "  An 


IN  PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS     149 

ambassador  is  an  honest  gentleman  who  lies  abroad 
for  the  good  of  his  country." 

Modern  improvements  in  the  means  for  the 
diffusion  of  knowledge  have  not  brought  about 
the  millennium,  but  they  have  reduced  the  old 
statecraft  to  a  condition  of  inglorious  futility. 
"  The  fine  Italian  hand  "  is  now  seen  only  in  pea- 
nut politics.  When  a  falsehood  can  be  contra- 
dicted as  soon  as  it  is  uttered,  it  has  no  longer 
sufficient  capital  on  which  to  do  a  large  business. 
The  practical  politician  will  ask,  "  Why  not  tell 
the  truth  in  the  first  place  ?  " 

Purists  are  always  scolding  because  so  many 
persons  misuse  the  verb  "  transpire."  We  are  re- 
minded that  an  event  does  not  transpire  when  it 
happens,  but  only  when  it  becomes  known  to  the 
public.  There  was  a  time  when  this  was  a  very 
important  distinction,  but  nowadays  we  are  in- 
clined to  disregard  it,  because  the  two  things  are 
generally  simultaneous. 

An  illustration  of  the  change  that  has  taken 
place  within  a  very  few  years  may  be  seen  in  the 
history  of  the  campaign  lie,  known  in  American 
politics  as  the  "  roorbach."  The  name  first  became 
current  in  1844,  when  a  mendacious  statement. 


I50    IN   PRAISE   OF   POLITICIANS 

purporting  to  be  taken  from  Roorbach's  "  Tour 
through  the  Western  and  Southern  States,"  was 
published  with  the  intent  to  destroy  Mr.  Polk's 
chances  for  the  presidency.  Under  conditions 
then  existing,  it  was  thought  safe  to  launch  this 
falsehood  two  months  before  the  election.  By 
1880,  when  the  Morey  letter  was  sprung  upon 
Garfield,  the  expectancy  of  life  for  the  roorbach 
had  been  reduced  to  two  weeks.  At  present  the 
warning,  "Look  out  for  roorbachs"  does  not  ap- 
pear till  forty-eight  hours  before  the  voting  be- 
gins. This  alarming  decrease  in  the  longevity  of 
the  roorbach  must  convince  even  the  most  "as- 
tute" politicaster  that  it  is  a  bad  risk. 

Thanks  to  modern  invention,  the  accomplished 
truth-teller  is  now  more  than  a  match  for  the  most 
accomplished  liar.  There  is  an  ever-widening  field 
in  which  the  honest  man  may  show  his  utmost 
skill.  But  to  win  success  in  the  field,  he  must  deal 
with  truth,  not  as  a  man  of  science,  but  as  a  poli- 
tician. It  is  not  a  thing  to  be  analyzed,  classified, 
and  put  on  the  shelf  He  is  on  the  lookout  for  a 
truth  that  will  be  effective,  a  solid  chunk  that  he 
can  use  as  a  missile.  The  more  obvious  it  is,  the 
better.  His  business  is  to  give  it  initial  velocity. 


IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS     151 

Modem  democracy  depends  for  its  very  exist- 
ence on  publicity.  This  is  its  armor  of  light,  by 
which  it  is  protected  from  its  insidious  foes.  But 
while  we  all  agree  to  this  in  the  abstract,  yet  there 
lingers  with  us  the  feeling  that  publicity  is  vulgar. 
James  Russell  Lowell,  stanch  believer  as  he  was 
in  an  ideal  democracy,  yet  confessed  that  he  was 
"  a  born  disciple  of  an  elder  time,"  and  instinc- 
tively shrank  from  the  — 

Self-maker  with  the  prying  eyes. 
This  creature  disenchanted  of  respect 
By  the  New  World's  new  fiend.  Publicity, 
Whose  testing  thumb  leaves  everywhere  its  smutch. 

This  scholarly  fastidiousness  must  be  overcome 
before  we  can  do  justice  to  those  who  do  our 
greatest  and  most  needed  work.  It  is  not  to  the 
disparagement  of  a  public  man  to  say  that  he  en- 
joys the  element  in  which  he  must  work.  A  re- 
tiring disposition  has  a  rare  charm  of  its  own,  but 
it  is  not  a  political  virtue.  Everything  must  here 
be  writ  large,  so  that  the  wayfaring  man,  though 
a  fool,  may  not  err  in  regard  to  it.  The  revival 
hymn  says,  — 

Dare  to  be  a  Daniel,  dare  to  stand  alone. 

Dare  to  have  a  purpose  true  and  dare  to  make  it  known. 


152     IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS 

The  private  citizen  may  be  content  to  have  a  pur- 
pose true ;  a  politician  must  meditate  in  the  night- 
watches  over  the  best  way  of  making  it  known. 
This  requires  a  good  deal  of  moral  advertising. 
Self-assertion  is  here  necessary.  Pushing  is  frowned 
upon  in  polite  society,  but  in  politics  one  who  is 
not  inclined  to  push  is  likely  to  yield  to  the  pull.  . 
Especially  is  this  quality  of  personal  aggressive- 
ness needed  when  any  advance  movement  is  con- 
templated. 

Said  John  Morley,  "Men  are  so  engaged  by 
the  homely  pressure  of  each  day  as  it  comes,  and 
the  natural  solicitudes  of  common  life  are  so  in- 
stant, that  a  bad  institution  or  a  monstrous  piece 
of  misgovernment  is  always  endured  in  patience 
for  years  after  the  remedy  has  been  urged  on  pub- 
lic attention.  No  cure  is  considered  with  an  ac- 
curate mind  until  the  evil  has  become  too  sharp 
to  be  borne,  or  its  whole  force  and  might  brought 
irresistibly  before  the  world  by  its  more  ardent, 
penetrative,  and  indomitable  spirits." 

That  is  but  to  say  that  a  reformer  with  a  genius 
for  politics  will  sometimes  deliberately  resolve  to 
do  for  a  nation  what  otherwise  could  be  done  only 
by  a  sudden  calamity  too  sharp  to  be  borne.  He 


IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS     153 

determines  to  make  himself  unbearable.  He  ham- 
mers away  at  one  point,  and  keeps  himself  before 
the  public  in  a  way  that  may  well  offend  the 
sensibilities  of  the  Anti-noise  Society. 

Those  who  do  not  know  what  he  is  driving  at 
naturally  think  of  him  as  a  robustious  fellow  who 
seeks  "  to  split  the  ears  of  the  groundlings,"  while 
he  "  makes  the  judicious  grieve."  But  the  analogy 
drawn  from  the  theatre  is  misleading.  He  is  not 
an  actor  seeking  applause,  he  is  a  social  engineer 
intent  on  developing  power  for  a  particular  pur- 
pose. If  the  groundlings  have  the  power,  he  di- 
rects his  attention  to  them.  As  for  the  judicious, 
they  will  grieve  anyway.  They  will  get  over  it 
when  they  have  time  to  see  what  it  is  all  about 

A  leader  must  not  be  too  modest  to  lead.  He 
must  have  some  way  of  apprising  his  followers  of 
his  whereabouts.  This  is  not  for  the  satisfaction 
of  personal  vanity,  but  to  accomplish  results. 

I  can  imagine  Robin  Hood  saying  politely  to 
the  Sheriff  of  Nottingham,  "My  Lord  Sheriff,  you 
must  pardon  me  for  blowing  my  own  horn.  I 
assure  you  that  I  did  not  do  it  to  draw  your  atten- 
tion to  myself  When  I  saw  you  riding  through 
the  forest,  so  well  attended,  my  one  desire  was  to 


154    IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS 

be  self-efFacing.  I  would  not  wittingly  have  in- 
truded my  poor  presence  upon  such  a  gallant 
company.  But  since  this  was  not  to  be,  I  should 
like  to  present  some  stout  gentlemen  of  my  ac- 
quaintance who  are  more  worthy  than  I  of  your 
lordship's  attention.  Ah  I  here  they  come  skipping 
o'er  the  lea  I  " 

In  the  higher  ranges  of  politics,  self-assertion 
—  instead  of  implying  egotism  —  indicates  self- 
absorption  in  a  great  work.  Cobden,.  when  he 
was  making  a  moral  issue  of  the  repeal  of  the 
Corn  Laws,  said,  "The  only  way  in  which  the 
soul  of  a  great  nation  can  be  stirred  is  by  appeal- 
ing to  its  sympathies  with  a  true  principle  in  its 
unalloyed  simplicity.  Nay,  further,  it  is  neces- 
sary for  the  concentration  of  a  people's  mind 
that  an  individual  should  be  the  incarnation  of 
a  principle." 

Here  we  come  upon  ground  unknown  to  the 
politicaster.  He  who  aspires  to  play  politics  in 
this  heroic  fashion  must  be  above  all  paltry  sub- 
terfuges. To  incarnate  a  great  popular  principle, 
a  man  must  have  not  only  keen  intelligence,  but 
also  a  large  heart  and  a  vivid  imagination.  He 
must  be  a  man  of  the  people,  and  idealize  the 


IN   PRAISE   OF  POLITICIANS     155 

people.  "  Here  is  that  which  moves  in  magnifi- 
cent masses  careless  of  particulars." 

He  cannot  understand  it  by  putting  "  his  ear  to 
the  ground."  He  must  himself  have  a  massive 
simplicity  of  character,  and  be  moved  by  the  same 
forces.  He  must  be  not  only  intellectually,  but 
actually,  a  representative  man. 

One  who  would  represent  a  commonwealth 
must  realize  what  a  commonwealth  is.  Let  us  take 
Milton's  conception  of  it  as  "a  huge  Christian 
personage,  as  compact  of  virtue  as  of  body,  the 
growth  and  stature  of  an  honest  man."  It  may  be 
objected  that  this  is  an  ideal,  and  that  the  actual 
commonwealth  may  be  neither  Christian  nor 
compactly  virtuous.  Leaving  out,  then,  that  which 
is  qualitative,  let  us  fix  our  minds  on  that  which 
is  quantitative.  A  commonwealth  may  not  be 
more  virtuous  than  an  individual,  but  it  is  cer- 
tainly bigger.  If  we  conceive  of  it  as  a  personage, 
we  must  think  of  it  as  a  huge  personage.  It  requires 
an  effort  of  the  imagination  to  comprehend  it.  A 
nation  may  commit  great  sins  and  be  greatly  pun- 
ished, but  it  should  not  be  charged  with  petty 
larcenies.  The  querulous  critic  who  scolds  it  as  he 
would  a  spoiled  child,  has  not  learned  the  primer 
of  politics. 


156     IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS 

A  commonwealth  is  not  only  big,  but,  at  least 
in  relation  to  its  own  citizens,  it  must  be  thought 
of  as  honest.  This  follows  from  its  bigness.  Dis- 
honesty is  the  attempt  of  a  part  to  obtain  what 
belongs  to  another  part  or  to  the  whole.  But  it  is 
hard  to  conceive  of  the  whole  as  engaged  in  a 
deliberate  robbery,  for  it  has  no  one  to  rob  but 
itself,  and  it  must  rob  itself  for  its  own  benefit. 
The  self-interest  of  a  commonwealth  is  but  inter- 
est in  the  common  weal,  and  against  this  there  is 
no  law. 

We  may  think  of  a  commonwealth  as  a  huge 
and  honest  personage  who  means  well,  but  who 
has  never  made  himself  fully  articulate.  He  mani- 
fests his  more  permanent  ideas  in  laws  and  cus- 
toms and  social  usages ;  but  in  dealing  with  the 
events  of  the  passing  hour,  he  must  employ  in- 
terpreters. 

Like  Nebuchadnezzar,  he  has  his  soothsayers, 
and  Chaldeans,  and  magicians  to  interpret  his 
dreams.  They  have  long  been  with  him,  and  are 
skilled  in  reading  his  habitual  thoughts.  But 
sometimes  it  happens  that  the  huge  personage 
has  a  new  dream  and  has  forgotten  what  it  was. 
Then  he  calls  his  soothsayers,  but  the  wise  men 


IN   PRAISE   OF   POLITICIANS     157 

only  shake  their  heads.  If  he  will  kindly  describe 
his  dream  they  will  tell  him  what  it  means. 
Which  learned  indecision  makes  the  huge  per- 
sonage very  angry.  So  he  seeks  out  some  one  who 
has  dreams  of  his  own,  whose  soul  has  been  stirred 
by  vague  forebodings  of  impending  change. 

Happy  is  the  nation  which  in  time  of  perplexity 
can  find  an  interpreter.  The  old  order,  he  says, 
changes;  but  if  we  act  resolutely  we  may  have 
part  in  the  new  order.  It  is  a  time  when  quick 
intelligence  and  courage  point  out  the  only  safe 
courses. 

Think  not  that  Prudence  dwells  in  dark  abodes; 
She  scans  the  future  with  the  eye  of  gods. 

The  hero  in  politics  is  one  who  has  convinced 
the  people  that  he  possesses  this  higher  prudence. 
They  recognize  him  when  he  separates  himself 
from  the  crowd  of  petty  politicians,  by  sacrificing 
a  small  advantage  that  he  may  seize  a  large  op 
portunity.  He  is  the  man  they  were  looking  for ; 
they  hail  him  leader,  for  he  is  the  one  who  "all 
alone  stands  hugely  politic."  The  master-strokes 
of  policy  have  been  made  by  such  men.  With 
popular  sentiment  behind  them,  they  have  been 
able  to  overtum  the  best-laid  plans  of  those  who 


158     IN   PRAISE   OF   POLITICIANS 

have  grown  gray  in  the  work  of  political  mani- 
pulation. 

But  is  not  this  hero-worship  dangerous  ?  Yes, 
all  heroic  exaltation  is  dangerous,  but  the  danger 
is  not  to  the  hero-worshipers,  but  to  the  hero. 

Those  who  are  tremulous  about  the  fate  of  the 
Republic  have  a  distressing  notion  that  free  na- 
tions have  often  perished  because  some  great  citi- 
zen has  been  too  much  admired  and  trusted.  The 
idea  is  that  an  innocent  nation  may  be  betrayed 
by  its  affections.  It  loves  not  wisely  but  too  well. 
It  trusts  the  fond  professions  of  a  friend  of  the 
people  who  betrays  the  confidence  that  he  has 
gained,  and  straightway  turns  tyrant. 

One  hates  to  disturb  such  a  pretty  sentimental 
theory;  but  I  have  to  confess  to  a  great  skepticism 
when  I  hear  this  lover's  complaint.  Nations  "have 
died  and  worms  have  eaten  them,  but  not  for 
love."  Nations  have  frequently  tired  of  freedom 
and  yielded  themselves  to  tyrants,  but  not  because 
of  guileless  trust  in  false  professions.  The  tyrants 
did  not  gain  their  power  by  first  inspiring  the 
people  with  a  love  of  liberty,  and  then  suddenly 
using  that  power  to  enslave  them. 

Of  course,  we  must  expect  to  hear  of  Caesar 


IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS     159 

and  Cromwell  and  Napoleon;  they  are  always 
with  us  when  we  are  asked  to  view  with  alarm 
any  one  whom  the  people  delight  to  honor.  But 
when  we  look  more  closely  at  these  formidable 
personages,  we  find  a  singular  consistency  in  their 
characters  and  careers.  They  deceived  nobody, 
least  of  all  their  contemporaries.  Had  Cato  crossed 
the  Rubicon,  or  Hampden  driven  out  the  Parlia- 
ment, or  Mirabeau  proclaimed  himself  Emperor, 
we  might  have  a  clear  case  of  breach  of  promise. 
But  Csesar  and  Cromwell  and  Napoleon  did  what 
might  reasonably  have  been  expected.  In  each 
case  the  hour  had  struck  when  the  Man  of  the 
Hour  arrived  to  do  the  work  which  awaited. 
People  at  the  time  were  looking  for  just  such  a 
man  as  he. 

But  who  believes  that  Washington,  had  he 
been  capable  of  yielding  to  a  foolish  ambition, 
could  have  used  the  love  and  reverence  of  his 
countrymen  to  make  him  king*?  The  proverbial 
complaint  of  the  ingratitude  of  republics  is  an  in- 
dication that  popular  enthusiasm  is  not  primarily 
for  a  person  but  for  a  cause.  So  long  as  the  per- 
son and  the  cause  are  associated,  they  share  alike 
in  the  loyalty  that  has  been  awakened.  But  when 


i6o    IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS 

they  are  disassociated,  the  person  shrinks.  The 
Irish  people  idolized  Daniel  O'Connell.  But  sup- 
pose at  the  height  of  his  power  over  the  affections 
of  the  people  O'Connell  had  renounced  the  cause 
of  Ireland.  Instantly  the  figure  of  the  Liberator 
would  have  vanished  into  thin  air.  The  "great" 
man  who  treats  his  greatness  as  if  it  were  a  private 
possession  is  speedily  disillusioned  by  a  change  of 
fortune.  His  grandiose  schemes  come  to  naught, 
for,  in  Milton's  sonorous  phrase,  he  "  has  rambled 
in  the  huge  topography  of  his  own  vain  thoughts." 

The  fact  is  that  there  is  no  device  for  a  refer- 
endum that  can  express  more  accurately  the  exact 
shadings  of  the  popular  will  than  the  admiration 
for  a  great  man.  It  is  effective  only  so  long  as  it 
is  spontaneous.  It  is  a  popular  initiative  that  is 
always  safeguarded  by  the  possibility  of  an  im- 
mediate recall. 

Here  is  a  man  after  the  people's  own  heart.  He 
represents  qualities  which  they  share.  He  has  won 
their  confidence  by  doing  in  a  conspicuous  man- 
ner work  which  they  believe  ought  to  be  done. 
Their  power  is  behind  him.  But  what  if,  once  in 
the  Seat  of  the  Mighty,  he  decides  to  use  his 
power  for  ends  that  they  do  not  approve?  All 


IN  PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS     i6i 

that  we  can  say  is  that  he  has  made  a  political 
blunder.  He  has  forgotten  that  in  a  democracy 
the  Seat  of  the  Mighty  is  the  Siege  Perilous.  The 
man  through  whose  personality  is  expressed  the 
aspiration  of  a  great  people  is  no  longer  his  own 
master.  He  must  be  what  people  think  he  is,  or 
he  is  undone.  The  Lost  Leader  is  deemed  a  trai- 
tor, and  yet  his  only  treason  is  to  the  ideal  which 
he  has  created  in  the  minds  of  others. 

To  achieve  a  great  reputation  is  to  have  an  in- 
crease of  power,  but  it  is  power  moving  only  in 
one  direction.  The  great  man  is  swept  along  in 
the  atmospheric  currents  of  popular  expectation. 
No  one  has  yet  invented  a  dirigible  reputation. 

When  William  Pitt  accepted  a  peerage,  he  did 
only  the  usual  thing.  But  he  had  forgotten  the 
secret  of  his  own  power.  Pitt  was  the  Great  Com- 
moner. Amid  the  welter  of  sordid  interests  he 
stood  as  the  symbol  of  proud  incorruptibility. 
When  he  became  Lord  Chatham,  men  seemed 
to  hear  the  mocking  cry  of  aristocratic  placemen, 
"  He  hath  become  one  of  us." 

Webster,  in  his  speech  of  the  7th  of  March, 
1850,  made  a  plea  for  a  compromise  to  save  the 
Union,  which  was  looked  upon  by  his  fellow  sen- 


1 62     IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS 

ators  as  thoroughly  statesmanlike.  But  from  thou- 
sands of  his  followers  who  had  most  idealized 
him,  and  to  whom  he  had  been  almost  a  demi- 
god, came  the  bitter  cry,  "Ichabod,  the  glory 
hath  departed." 

So  far  from  its  being  an  easy  thing  for  a  popu- 
lar politician  to  use  his  popularity  according  to 
his  own  wish,  it  is  difficult  to  direct  it  in  any  way 
whatever.  Political  strategy  differs  from  military 
strategy  in  that  there  can  be  no  concealment  in 
regard  to  the  objective.  If  the  leader  conceals  his 
intentions,  his  followers  become  suspicious  and 
desert  him.  The  strategic  retreat  or  the  change  of 
base  is,  therefore,  a  hazardous  operation.  Fabius, 
had  he  been  in  politics  instead  of  war,  would  have 
found  it  well-nigh  impossible  to  keep  his  forces 
together. 

The  skill  of  a  great  politician  consists  not  in 
the  ability  to  outwit  his  opponents,  but  in  his 
ability  to  keep  in  check  his  more  impetuous  par- 
tisans without  cooling  their  moral  ardor.  He  must 
insist  on  doing  one  thing  at  a  time,  and  yet  so 
win  their  confidence  that  they  shall  believe  that 
when  that  thing  has  been  done  he  may  be  de- 
pended upon  to  take  with  equal  courage  the  next 


IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS     163 

necessary  step.  When  he  acts  with  prudence,  he 
must  see  to  it  that  his  prudence  is  not  mistaken 
for  cowardice  or  sloth. 

It  was  in  his  power  of  sun-clear  exposition  that 
Lincoln  was  preeminent.  In  his  letter  to  Horace 
Greeley  in  1862  he  expounded  his  principles  of 
political  expediency  in  a  way  that  could  be  "  un- 
derstanded  of  the  people."  "  My  paramount  ob- 
ject in  this  struggle  is  to  save  the  Union,  and  it 
is  not  either  to  save  or  destroy  Slavery.  If  I  could 
save  the  Union  without  freeing  any  slave,  I  would 
do  it.  If  I  could  save  it  by  freeing  all  the  slaves, 
I  would  do  it ;  and  if  I  could  save  it  by  freeing 
some  and  leaving  others  alone,  I  would  also  do 
that.  What  I  do  about  Slavery  and  the  colored 
race,  I  do  because  I  believe  it  helps  to  save  this 
Union;  and  what  I  forbear,  I  forbear  because  I 
do  not  believe  it  would  help  to  save  the  Union. 
I  shall  do  less  whenever  I  believe  that  what  I  am 
doing  hurts  the  cause.  I  shall  do  more  whenever 
I  believe  that  doing  more  will  help  the  cause.  I 
shall  try  to  correct  errors  when  shown  to  be  er- 
rors :  and  I  shall  adopt  new  views  so  fast  as  they 
shall  appear  to  be  true  views.  I  have  here  stated 
my  purpose  according  to  my  y'levf  of  official  duty. 


1 64     IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS 

and  I  intend  no  modification  of  my  oft-expressed 
personal  wish  that  all  men  everywhere  could  be 
free." 

Here  two  things  are  made  perfectly  clear,  the 
personal  wish  and  the  official  duty.  Abraham 
Lincoln,  the  man,  wished  every  man  everywhere 
to  be  free :  let  friend  and  foe  alike  be  aware  of 
this.  But  Abraham  Lincoln,  President  of  the 
United  States,  had  a  task  to  which  everything 
else  must  be  subordinated.  His  sworn  duty  was 
to  save  the  Union,  and  no  ulterior  desire  could 
be  allowed  to  interfere  with  that.  To  save  the 
Union  he  needed  the  help  of  those  who  believed 
in  the  immediate  abolition  of  slavery,  and  he 
needed  the  help  of  those  who  did  not  so  believe. 
And  he  was  able  to  receive  the  help  of  both,  be- 
cause he  took  both  into  his  confidence. 

The  tragic  blunders  of  the  era  of  reconstruction 
came  from  the  lack  of  such  magnanimous  politics. 
Lincoln  would  have  made  no  mystery  of  the  duty 
of  the  day,  and  he  would  have  made  it  clear  that 
it  was  a  new  day.  He  would  have  called  upon 
the  men  of  the  South  and  the  men  of  the  North 
to  lay  aside  their  animosities  as  things  irrelevant, 
in  order  together  to  save  their  common  country 


IN    PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS     165 

from  new  perils.  It  took  the  ordinary  politician 
a  quarter  of  a  century  to  see  what  the  great  poli- 
tician could  see  in  an  instant, — that  the  Civil 
War  was  over.  What  miseries  were  endured,  and 
what  injustices  were  done,  because  well-intentioned 
leaders  lacked  the  quality  of  moral  quick-witted- 


ness! 


If  war  is  the  game  of  kings,  politics  is  the  game 
of  free  peoples.  There  is  no  form  of  human  ac- 
tivity which  calls  into  play  so  many  qualities  at 
once,  or  which  demands  the  constant  exercise  of 
such  energetic  virtue. 

"Like  a  poet  hidden  in  the  light  of  thought,** 
the  politician's  private  conscience  is  hidden  in  the 
light  of  his  public  duty.  He  is  himself  a  poet 
— a  maker.  He  works  not  through  words,  but 
through  the  impulses  and  convictions  of  other 
men.  His  materials  are  the  most  ordinary  —  the 
events  of  the  passing  day,  and  the  crude  averages 
of  unselected  humanity.  He  takes  them  as  they 
come,  and  remoulds  them  nearer  to  the  heart's 
desire.  Out  of  the  conflicting  aims  of  the  multi- 
tudes of  individuals,  he  creates  the  harmonies  of 
concerted  action. 

To  some  the  praise  of  politicians  may  seem 


1 66     IN   PRAISE  OF   POLITICIANS 

but  the  glorification  of  worldly  success.  "But 
what,"  they  ask,  "  about  the  failures  ?  The  world 
acclaims  the  hero  who  marches  to  triumph  at  the 
head  of  a  great  people.  But  what  of  one  who  is 
fax  in  advance  of  his  own  time,  the  lonely  cham- 
pion of  unpopular  truth,  who  dies  unrecognized 
by  the  world  he  serves  ?  '* 

The  answer  must  be  that  there  are  good  and 
great  men  whom  we  praise  for  other  qualities  than 
those  of  the  politician.  Their  high  function  it  is 
to  proclaim  ideas  that  are  not  affected  by  the 
changing  circumstances  of  their  own  day.  They 
belong  to  the  ages,  and  not  to  a  single  generation. 
Their  fame  is  dateless.     . 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  must  recognize  the 
fact  that  one  may  be  in  advance  of  his  age  and 
yet  closely  related  to  it,  as  an  effective  politician. 
The  politician  aims  at  success,  but  it  is  not  neces- 
sary that  the  success  should  be  personal.  It  is  the 
final  issue  of  the  struggle  which  must  be  kept  in 
mind. 

The  politician  is  quick  to  seize  an  opportunity, 
but  it  may  be  only  the  opportunity  to  make  a  be- 
ginning in  a  work  so  vast  that  it  cannot  be  com- 
pleted in  his  own  lifetime.  He  may  deliberately 


IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS     167 

ally  himself  to  the  party  of  the  future,  and  labor 
to-day  for  results  that  cannot  appear  till  the  day 
after  to-morrow.  He  may  see  that  the  surest  way  to 
the  attainment  of  his  ultimate  purpose  is  through 
the  ruins  of  his  own  fortunes,  and  he  may  choose 
to  take  that  way. 

In  all  this  he  is  still  within  the  range  of  prac- 
tical politics,  and  is  concerned  with  the  adapta- 
tion of  means  to  ends.  He  is  dealing  with  the 
issues  not  of  a  day,  but  of  a  century.  It  is  not 
safe  to  say  that  a  politician  has  failed  till  the  re- 
turns are  all  in. 

As  the  true  sequence  of  events  becomes  plain. 
History  revises  our  judgments  in  regard  to  politi- 
cal sagacity.  We  begin  to  see  who  were  the  lead- 
ers, and  who  were  the  blindly  led. 

There  have  been  martyrs  who  in  the  hour  of 
their  agony  have  been  far-seeing  politicians.  They 
have  been  sustained  not  so  much  by  a  beatific 
vision  as  by  their  clear  foresight  of  the  public 
consequences  of  the  blunder  of  their  adversaries. 
They  have  calculated  the  force  of  the  revulsion 
of  feeling  that  was  sure  to  follow  an  act  of  cruel 
injustice.  It  was  in  this  mood  that  heroic  Hugh 
Latimer  watched  the  fagots  that  were  being  piled 


i68     IN   PRAISE  OF  POLITICIANS 

around  him.  "  Be  of  good  comfort,  Master  Rid- 
ley, and  play  the  man:  we  shall  this  day  light 
such  a  candle  by  God's  grace  in  England,  as  I 
trust  shall  never  be  put  out." 

Latimer's  words  were  justified  by  the  events. 
Those  martyr  fires,  manfully  endured,  determined 
the  policy  of  the  nation. 

Here  good  politics  and  good  ethics  are  one. 
No  cause  has  ever  triumphed  through  clever 
management  alone.  There  is  always  need  for  the 
leader,  who,  without  regard  to  what  may  happen 
to  himself,  is  resolved  to  play  the  man. 


MY  MISSIONARY  LIFE  IN  PERSIA 

WITH    SOME    REMARKS    ON    LIKING   ONE's    JOB 


AMONG  the  most  persistent  of  my  early 
dreams  was  that  of  being  a  missionary.  I 
wanted  to  be  a  missionary  before  it  occurred  to 
me  that  I  had  any  particular  doctrine  to  com- 
municate or  manner  of  life  to  recommend.  Indeed 
I  now  perceive  that  my  call  was  more  of  Nature 
than  of  Grace. 

I  wanted  to  be  a  missionary  because  I  longed 
to  go  on  missionary  journeys.  The  call  of  the 
wild,  the  lure  of  the  unknown,  the  fascination  of 
terrestrial  mystery  takes  many  forms.  It  is  all  a 
part  of  the  romance  of  Geography,  which  has  sur- 
vived even  the  invention  of  maps. 

When  one  is  eleven  and  going  on  twelve,  there 
comes  a  great  longing  to  go  to  the  Antipodes,  to 
visit  No  Man's  Land,  to  wander  through  forsaken 
cities,  to  climb  lonely  towers,  and  to  look  out 
through  — 


I70    MISSIONARY  LIFE  IN  PERSIA 

magic  casements  opening  on  the  foam 
Of  perilous  seas. 

In  different  generations  this  demand  has  been 
variously  met.  The  institutions  of  civilization,  be- 
sides their  primary  objects,  have  had  the  secondary 
function  of  satisfying  the  youthful  desire  to  go 
into  a  far  country,  a  desire  not  of  the  Prodigal 
alone.  Patriotism,  Religion,  Commerce,  each  has 
its  finger-post  pointing  to  the  unknown. 

There  lies  the  port,  the  vessel  puffs  her  sail. 
There  gloom  the  dark,  broad  seas. 

To  the  boy  of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  commerce,  with 
the  early  morning  dew  of  piracy  yet  upon  it,  of- 
fered a  sufficient  lure.  To  go  into  trade  did  not 
mean  to  clerk  in  a  dry-goods  store.  It  meant  to 
sail  away  over  the  blue  Midland  waters  to  "the 
cloudy  cliffs  down  which  the  Iberians  come." 

The  Roman  youth,  when  he  would  visit  Par- 
thia  and  Numidia  and  Caledonia,  had  the  way 
made  easy  for  him.  All  he  had  to  do  was  to  join 
the  legions,  and  then  the  path  of  duty  and  the 
path  of  glory  coincided.  There  was  the  promise 
of  many  a  fine  trip. 

In  the  Middle  Ages  there  were  Crusades  and 


MISSIONARY  LIFE   IN   PERSIA     171 

pilgrimages  to  holy  shrines, — capital  ways  of  see- 
ing the  world.  Chaucer's  knight  had  "ridden  as 
well  in  Christendom  as  Hethenesse."  Or  if  one 
could  not  be  a  knight-errant  he  could  be  a  saint- 
errant.  He  could  journey  far  with  never  a  penny 
to  pay. 

But  if  one  lived  on  Paint  Creek  in  Southern 
Ohio,  the  access  to  the  world  of  romance  was 
more  difficult.  It  seemed  a  long  way  from  Paint 
Creek  to  the  lands  old  in  story.  It  was  a  far  cry  to 

Cambalu,  seat  of  Cathaian  Can, 
And  Samarchand  by  Oxus,  Temir's  throne. 
To  Agra  and  Lahor  of  great  Mogul, 
To  Paquin  of  Sinian  Kings  and  thence 
Down  to  the  golden  Chersonese,  or  where 
The  Persian  in  Ectaban  sate,  or  since 
In  Hispahan,  or  where  the  Russian  Ksar 
In  Mosco,  or  the  Sultan  in  Bizance. 

So  far  as  one's  chances  of  seeing  these  places 
are  concerned,  they  might  as  well  be  in  another 
world. 

But  out  of  the  distant  wonderlands  one  traveler 
returned.  He  was  a  missionary.  He  had  sailed 
strange  seas,  he  had  seen  famous  cities,  and  had 
got  back  safely  to  Ohio.  He  had  crossed  deserts 


172     MISSIONARY  LIFE  IN   PERSIA 

in  caravans,  and  had  endured  perils  of  robbers.  I 
resolved  to  be  a  missionary. 

The  world  was  all  before  me  where  to  choose 
my  place  of  work.  There  were  islands  in  the 
South  Seas  still  awaiting  the  spiritual  explorer. 
Moffat  and  Livingstone  had  found  Africa  inter- 
esting. There  were  still  places  in  it  where  an  en- 
terprising missionary  could  get  lost,  and  to  find 
him  would  be  an  exciting  adventure. 

But  at  last  I  settled  down  to  the  firm  convic- 
tion that  I  was  destined  to  be  a  missionary  in 
Persia.  Other  fields  might  clamor  for  my  services, 
but  Persia  was  my  first  love,  and  to  that  I  would 
be  faithful.  The  very  names  of  its  cities  and  its 
streams  were  music  to  my  ears.  They  awakened 
what  I  felt  was  best  in  my  nature.  It  was  in  con- 
nection with  them  that  I  first  experienced  the 
luxury  of  doing  good.  How  I  came  to  choose 
Persia  for  my  field  of  labor  is  clearer  to  me  now 
than  it  was  at  the  time.  There  are  many  influences 
which  affect  us,  but  the  influence  of  the  imagina- 
tion, which  is  the  strongest  of  all,  is  the  one  we 
least  recognize.  It  forms  the  atmosphere  that  we 
breathe  and  that  sustains  us  when  we  know  it 
not. 


MISSIONARY  LIFE  IN   PERSIA     173 

In  looking  back  I  perceive  that  the  period 
when  I  determined  to  be  a  missionary  to  Persia 
coincided  with  that  in  which  my  chief  Hterary 
enthusiasm  was  Thomas  Moore's  "LallaRookh." 

I  do  not  think  that  I  seriously  considered  that 
the  juvenile  delight  in  the  melodies  of  "Lalla 
Rookh"  was  in  itself  a  sufficient  missionary 
motive.  But  having  resolved  to  be  a  missionary 
somewhere,  this  determined  the  place.  The  mis- 
sionary reports  were  rather  dry  reading,  and  with 
all  their  fullness  of  detail  did  not  give  me  the  in- 
formation which  I  most  needed.  "Lalla  Rookh" 
was  the  book  which  most  interested  me.  It  di- 
rected my  newly  awakened  zeal  into  the  right 
channel.  It  showed  me  the  paths  of  pleasantness 
in  which  I  would  gladly  walk. 

How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  Did  not  my  heart 
kindle  at  the  opening  lines :  — 

In  that  delightful  Province  of  the  Sun, 
The  first  of  Persian  lands  he  shines  upon. 
Where  all  the  loveliest  children  of  his  beam. 
Flowerets  and  fruits,  blush  over  every  stream. 

Was  not  that  delightful  Province  of  the  Sun 
good  missionary  ground  ?  Should  I  reject  a  call 
to  such  a  sphere^of  usefulness  simply  because  it 


174     MISSIONARY  LIFE  IN   PERSIA 

was  not  unmixed  with  pleasured  Duty  might 
some  time  call  me  to  preach  on  the  banks  of 
that  mysterious  river  which  — 

from  its  spring 
In  the  Dark  Mountains  swiftly  wandering. 
Enriched  by  every  pilgrim  brook  that  shines 
With  relics  from  Bucharia*s  ruby  mines. 
And  lending  to  the  Caspian  half  its  strength 
In  the  cool  Lake  of  Eagles  sinks  at  length. 

I  should  be  prepared  for  such  a  call.  Nor  should 
I  shrink  if  in  the  course  of  my  work  I  should  be 
summoned  to  — 

vast  illuminated  halls 
Silent  and  bright,  where  nothing  but  the  falls 
Of  fragrant  waters  gushing  with  cool  sound 
From  many  a  jasper  fount  is  heard  around. 

And  I  should  find  my  way  through  — 

A  maze  of  light  and  loveliness. 
Where  the  way  leads  o'er  tessellated  floors 
Of  mats  of  Cairo,  through  long  corridors 
Where  ranged  in  cassolets  and  silver  urns 
■  Sweet  wood  of  aloes  or  of  sandal  burns. 
And  spicy  rods,  such  as  illume  at  night 
The  bowers  of  Thibet,  send  forth  odorous  light. 

I  was  unaccustomed  to  such  scenes  and  un- 


MISSIONARY  LIFE  IN   PERSIA     175 

familiar  with  the  etiquette  involved,  but  doubt- 
less I  should  leam.  In  Persia  one  must  do  as  the 
Persians  do. 

And  I  could  not  forget  that  — 

There 's  a  bower  of  roses  by  Bendemeer's  stream. 
And  the  nightingale  smgs  round  it  all  the  day  long. 

Now  and  then  there  would  be  a  journey  on 
the  water. 

*T  is  moonlight  over  Oman's  sea. 
Her  banks  of  pearl  and  palmy  isles 

Bask  in  the  night-beam  beauteously. 
And  her  blue  waters  sleep  in  smiles. 

I  should  not  allow  myself  to  become  too  nar- 
row. When  my  home  work  was  well  in  hand,  I 
should  visit  the  neighboring  regions.  For  — 

Who  has  not  heard  of  the  Vale  of  Cashmere 
With  its  roses  the  brightest  that  earth  ever  gave. 
Its  temples,  and  grottoes,  and  fountains  as  clear 
As  the  love-lighted  eyes  that  hang  over  their  wave  ? 

It  might  be  found  advisable  to  establish  a  sta- 
tion in  Cashmere. 

The  prose  introduction  and  the  copious  notes 
gave  much  information  which  was  useful  in  ar- 
ranging one's  itinerary.  In  the  heat  of  the  day  one 
could   rest  "under  the  shade  of  a  banyan  tree 


176    MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN   PERSIA 

from  which  the  view  opened  upon  a  glade  cov- 
ered with  antelopes,"  or  in  one  of  those  hidden, 
embowered  spots  described  by  one  from  the  Isles 
of  the  West  as  "  places  of  melancholy,  delight, 
and  safety,  where  all  the  company  around  was 
wild  peacocks  and  turtle-doves."  Such  spots 
would  be  excellent  places  for  the  writing  of  ser- 
mons. In  this  way  one  could  get  just  the  kind  of 
illustrations  that  the  Persians  would  appreciate. 
And  the  flowers  of  rhetoric  would  all  be  perfectly 
natural. 

To  be  commissioned  by  the  Board  to  a  station 
in  Persia  was  certainly  the  very  romance  of  mis- 
sionarying. 

"  Lalla  Rookh,"  and  behind  that  the  "  Arabian 
Nights,"  predisposed  my  mind  to  regard  this  field 
favorably. 

No  journey  would  be  too  long.  I  would  will- 
ingly pass  on  a  swift  dromedary  along  the  mys- 
terious borderlands  where  — 

Fresh  smell  the  shores  of  Araby. 

I  would  then  plunge  boldly  into  the  interior 
and  follow  the  caravan  route  — 

from  the  banks  of  Bendemcer 
To  the  nut-groves  of  Samarchand. 


MISSIONARY  LIFE  IN  PERSIA     177 

Planning  these  missionary  journeys  was  a  pleas- 
ant way  of  doing  one's  duty.  Wordsworth's  ex- 
cursion through  the  vales  of  Westmoreland  led 
him  to  feel  how  exquisitely  the  mind  to  the  ex- 
ternal world  is  fitted,  and  how  exquisitely  too  the 
external  world  is  fitted  to  the  mind. 

The  same  impressions  came  from  my  mission- 
ary excursions  in  Persia.  There  was  a  perfect 
adaptation  of  the  environment  to  the  mind.  In- 
deed, the  mind  had  it  all  its  own  way.  Persia  was 
exquisitely  fitted  to  my  conception  of  it.  There 
was  no  contradiction  of  sinners.  The  sinners 
formed  a  picturesque  background.  Their  presence 
harmonized  with  the  scene.  They  were  the  tawny 
desert  around  my  little  spiritual  oasis. 

My  tastes  were  simple.  All  I  required  of  Na- 
ture was  what  she  could  easily  furnish :  a  desert, 
a  palm  tree,  a  little  river,  some  roses  and  some 
nightingales.  Then  the  congregation  would  seat 
itself  and  I  would  begin  to  expound  my  favorite 
text :  "  The  lines  are  fallen  unto  me  in  pleasant 
places."  Being  like  myself  enthusiastic  Persians, 
they  would  all  agree  to  this.  After  we  were  in  the 
right  frame  of  mind  we  would  proceed  to  a  con- 
sideration of  some  of  our  sins  which  prevented  us 


lyS     MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN   PERSIA 

from  fully  enjoying  these  pleasant  places.  It  would 
then  be  time  for  our  frugal  meal  of  dates. 

Even  to  this  day  I  cannot  read  Emerson's 
"  Saadi ''  without  relapsing  into  the  mood  of  my 
missionary  life  in  Persia. 

Yet  Saadi  loved  the  race  of  men,  — 

No  churl,  immured  in  cave  or  den; 

In  bower  and  hall 

He  wants  them  all. 

Nor  can  dispense 

With  Persia  for  his  audience. 

One  does  not  feel  like  an  intruder.  For  — 

Gladly  round  that  golden  lamp 

Sylvan  deities  encamp. 

And  simple  maids  and  noble  youth 

Are  welcome  to  the  man  of  truth. 

Most  welcome  they  who  need  him  most. 

They  feed  the  spring  which  they  exhaust. 


But,  critic,  spare  thy  vanity. 
Nor  show  thy  pompous  parts. 
To  vex  with  odious  subtlety 
The  cheerer  of  men's  hearts. 

I  pass  through  the  grove  of  palms  and  find  my 
way  among  the  crowds  of  whirling  dervishes 
without  feeling  the  desire  to  trip  any  of  them  up, 
and  come  to  where  Saadi  sits  in  the  sun. 


MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN   PERSIA     179 

It  is  no  place  for  dogmatic  controversy.  Long 
ago  the  Muse  had  whispered  to  him,  — 

Never,  son  of  eastern  morning. 
Follow  falsehood,  follow  scorning. 
Denounce  who  will,  who  will  deny. 
And  pile  the  hills  and  scale  the  sky; 
Let  theist,  atheist,  pantheist. 
Define  and  wrangle  how  they  list. 
Fierce  conserver,  fierce  destroyer,  — 
Be  thou  joy-giver  and  enjoyer. 

To  sit  in  the  sun  with  Saadi  and  get  this  point 
of  view  would  be  worth  a  long  missionary  jour- 
ney. 

As  time  went  on,  the  pictures  of  Lalla  Rookh 
were  retouched,  but  the  original  coloring  was  not 
obliterated.  I  preferred  old-fashioned  travelers 
who  had  emotions  on  the  banks  of  the  Tigris 
which  were  different  from  those  that  came  on  the 
banks  of  the  Mississippi.  There  were  periods 
when  my  missionary  zeal  grew  weak,  but  when 
it  returned  it  was  always  to  Persia.  This  contin- 
ued even  to  the  time  when  I  entered  the  un- 
romantic  purlieus  of  the  Theological  Seminary. 

Fuller,  in  his  "  Worthies  of  England,"  tells  us 
that  when  Sir  Thomas  More  published  his  "  Uto- 


i8o    MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN   PERSIA 

pia"  "many  at  the  reading  thereof  took  it  for  the 
real  truth,"  and  "  there  were  here  among  us  sun- 
dry good  men  and  learned  divines  very  desirous 
to  bring  the  people  to  the  faith  of  Christ,  whose 
manners  they  did  like  so  well." 

It  was  the  same  motive  which  inspired  these 
would-be  missionaries  to  Utopia  which  inspired 
me. 

At  last,  feeling  that  I  could  no  longer  lead  a 
double  life,  I  called  a  family  council  and  declared 
my  intention  of  offering  my  services  to  the  Board. 
I  grew  eloquent  in  praise  of  my  chosen  field,  and 
of  the  people  "  whose  manners  I  did  like  so  well." 

There  seemed  an  especial  fitness  in  making 
some  slight  return  to  my  adopted  country  from 
which  I  had  already  received  so  much  pleasure. 

Then  it  was  that  my  grandmother,  whose  tena- 
city of  opinion  was  inherited  from  a  line  of  Cov- 
enanting ancestors,  registered  her  veto.  "You 
must  not  go  as  missionary  to  Persia,  for  if  you 
do  the  Persians  will  convert  you." 

I  do  not  think  that  my  grandmother  feared 
that  I  would  become  a  Mohammedan,  but  she 
did  fear  that  I  might  develop  oriental  traits,  alien 
to  the  habit  of  mind  of  the  Chillicothe  Presby- 


MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN   PERSIA     i8i 

tery.  What  I  took  to  be  a  missionary  call  she 
looked  upon  as  a  kind  of  apostasy.  Tried  by  the 
severe  standards  of  disinterested  virtue,  I  was 
found  wanting.  The  call  to  Persia  lacked  the  ele- 
ment of  complete  self-abnegation.  To  be  sure,  I 
was  not  attracted  by  the  loaves  and  fishes,  but 
deserts  and  nightingales  and  the  enchantment  of 
distance  might  be  equally  deceptive. 

So  it  turned  out  that  when  the  time  came,  in- 
stead of  going  to  Persia  I  went  to  Kansas.  I  found 
Kansas  interesting  also,  though  in  a  different  way. 

II 

I  should  not  ask  presumably  busy  people  to 
listen  to  these  shadowy  recollections,  were  it  not 
that  they  suggest  some  questions  of  practical  im- 
portance. Was  my  grandmother  right  in  think- 
ing that  my  pleasure  in  Persia  was  likely  to  be  a 
detriment  to  my  usefulness  ?  Was  I  less  likely  to 
do  good  to  the  Persians  because  I  thought  well 
of  them  to  begin  with  ?  And  would  it  have  been 
a  waste  of  time  if,  after  a  term  of  years,  I  had 
partly  converted  the  Persians  and  the  Persians 
had  partly  converted  me?  May  there  not  be  a 
profitable  reciprocity  in  spiritual  influence  ? 


1 82     MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN   PERSIA 

In  attempting  to  answer  such  questions  we 
encounter  the  prejudice  which  exists  among  the 
more  moral  and  intellectual  classes  against  mixed 
motives.  We  usually  prefer  to  exhibit  a  virtue 
in  as  abstract  and  dehumanized  a  form  as  possi- 
ble. We  strip  it  of  any  agreeable  circumstances 
and  accidents,  and  by  a  process  of  ethical  analysis 
reduce  it  to  its  simplest  terms.  Because  Virtue 
has  often  been  mistaken  for  Pleasure,  we  insist 
that  it  shall  not  be  seen  in  its  company.  There 
seems  something  especially  meritorious  in  the 
more  unpleasing  manifestations  of  duty,  as  then 
we  are  free  from  any  doubts  as  to  its  being  the 
genuine  article.  If  the  duty  happens  not  to  be 
disagreeable,  we  try  to  make  it  appear  so.  Thus 
a  patriotic  citizen,  being  nominated  for  an  office 
of  dignity,  is  careful  to  inform  his  constituents 
that  he  accepts  at  the  sacrifice  of  his  personal  de- 
sires, which  are  all  for  a  strictly  private  life. 

In  the  Middle  Ages  some  of  the  saints  invented 
an  ingenious  device  for  reconciling  politeness 
with  asceticism.  When  they  were  invited  to  din- 
ner they  ate  what  was  set  before  them,  but  if  the 
viands  threatened  to  be  delicious,  they  slyly 
sprinkled  them  with  ashes. 


MISSIONARY   LIFE  IN  PERSIA     183 

Biographers  of  missionaries,  philanthropists,  re- 
formers, and  all  kinds  of  altruists,  seem  to  think 
it  necessary  to  do  something  like  this.  They  re- 
present their  heroes  as  doing  all  sorts  of  disagree- 
able things  which  they  do  not  want  to  do.  They 
set  up  one  single  dignified  motive,  and  severely 
eliminate  all  the  little  subsidiary  motives  that 
grow  around  it.  The  one  virtue  is  a  upas-tree, 
making  a  desert  where  it  grows.  Every  effort  is 
made  to  conceal  the  fact  that  the  good  deed  has 
been  done  from  mixed  motives.  Virtue  must  be 
presented  in  an  austerely  simple  form  without  any 
pleasant  embellishments. 

The  "strong  man  rejoicing  to  run  a  race"  is 
praised  for  his  disinterested  virtue.  "Brave  fellow, 
how  noble  he  is  in  his  self-forgetting  zeal !  There 
he  goes  through  all  the  heat  and  dust,  when  he 
might  be  here  sitting  in  a  rocking-chair." 

The  sympathetic  and  tearful  admirer  would 
feel  that  you  were  attempting  to  pull  his  hero 
down  from  the  high  moral  pedestal  if  you  were 
to  say  that  rocking  in  a  chair  was  an  acquired 
taste  which  the  strong  man  does  not  as  yet  pos- 
sess. He  prefers  to  run.  He  has  an  excess  of  ani- 
mal spirits  which  must  be  worked  off  some  way. 


1 84    MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN   PERSIA 

He  rejoices  to  run,  partly  because  he  is  alive,  and 
partly  because  he  has  a  worthy  goal  presented  to 
him. 

So  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  observe,  such 
mixed  motives  are  the  ones  that  take  men  fur- 
thest. Altruism  is  no  exception  to  the  general 
rule  that  a  man  does  good  work  only  vi^hen  he 
likes  his  job. 

In  private  life,  and  in  the  pursuit  of  gain  or 
reputation,  people  endure  all  sorts  of  hardships 
without  incurring  any  particular  sympathy.  It  is 
taken  for  granted  that  they  like  what  they  are 
doing.  The  football  player  does  n't  mind  his  in- 
cidental bruises.  The  fisherman  rejoices  in  his 
tribulations,  and  no  one  thinks  it  strange. 

Why  should  not  the  altruist  get  the  same 
sportsmanlike  pleasure  out  of  the  incidents  of  his 
work?  Because  he  must  work  hard  with  an  un- 
certainty about  the  results,  is  no  reason  why  he 
should  not  yield  to  all  the  allurements  and  fas- 
cinations which  belong  to  the  enterprise  upon 
which  he  has  entered. 

It  happens  that  the  capacity  for  enjoying  him- 
self is  one  upon  which  his  opportunity  to  do 
good  toothers  depends.  Human  nature  is  so  con- 


MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN   PERSIA     185 

stituted  that  it  demands  that  duty  be  mixed  with 
pleasure. 

We  cannot  abide  an  altruist  who  does  not 
enjoy  himself,  and  who  has  not  a  sportsmanlike 
spirit.  We  resent  his  attempt  to  monopolize 
brotherly  kindness.  If  he  be  without  imagination 
he  will  insist  on  working  for  us  instead  of  with 
us.  He  will  not  admit  us  to  a  partnership  in  good 
works.  He  insists  on  doing  all  the  self-sacrifice 
and  have  us  take  the  ignominious  part  of  passive 
recipients  of  his  goodness.  He  confers  a  benefit 
on  us  with  an  air  that  says,  "  I  have  come  to  do 
you  good.  I  have  no  selfish  gratification  in  what 
I  am  doing  for  you.  But  a  sense  of  duty  has  tri- 
umphed over  my  personal  inclination." 

We  detest  him  heartily,  but  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  he  is  not  enjoying  himself  while  he  is 
doing  us  a  kindness.  It  is  as  if  an  anxious  host 
should  refuse  to  sit  at  the  table  with  his  guests. 
He  likes  to  see  them  eat,  but  he  won't  eat  with 
them.  They  are  not  likely  to  pardon  this  breach 
of  hospitality. 

Reciprocity  is  the  very  essence  of  human  in- 
tercourse, and  only  the  churlish  person  fails  to 
realize  that  there  must  be  reciprocity  in  pleasure. 


1 86    MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN   PERSIA 

You  must  not  throw  your  cast-ofF  pleasures  to 
another  as  you  would  throw  a  bone  to  a  dog.  The 
dog  is  a  generous  creature  and  will  accept  the 
bone  with  no  criticism  of  the  unmannerly  way  in 
which  it  is  offered.  But  kindness  to  persons  is 
not  so  simple  as  kindness  to  animals.  You  must 
be  kind  to  your  neighbor  in  such  a  way  as  not  to 
interfere  with  his  plans  for  being  kind  to  you. 

Altruism  is  a  game  two  must  play  at,  and  it 
must  be  played  cheerfully.  You  must  not  try  to 
be  Altruist  all  the  time,  you  must  take  your  turn 
being  the  Other.  If  it  is  your  duty  to  make  him 
happy,  it  is  equally  his  duty  to  make  you  happy. 
You  must  give  him  the  opportunity.  If  you  have 
renounced  the  *'  miserable  aims  that  end  with 
self,"  it  is  praiseworthy  in  him  to  do  the  same. 
Encourage  him  to  have  worthy  aims  that  end 
in  you. 

It  is  wonderful  how  sensitive  we  all  are  in  this 
respect.  We  refuse  to  be  helped  except  by  people 
who  like  to  do  it,  and  who  profess  to  be  having 
the  time  of  their  lives  when  assisting  us.  "  We 
should  be  most  happy  to  serve  you  if  you  will 
allow  us."  If  they  say  it  as  if  they  meant  it,  we 
allow  them  to  lend  a  hand;  if  we  suspect  them 


.   MISSIONARY   LIFE  IN   PERSIA     187 

of  insincerity  we  respectfully  decline  their  offer, 
—  unless  we  are  paupers,  and  then  we  don't  care 
how  they  feel. 

This  universal  preference  which  all  self-re- 
specting people  have  for  being  helped  by  cheerful 
friends,  rather  than  by  conscientious  benefactors, 
is  a  great  limitation  to  all  philanthropic  effort. 
Unless  we  heartily  enjoy  ourselves,  other  people 
will  not  allow  us  to  improve  their  minds  or  their 
morals. 

The  great  helpers  of  mankind  have  been  men 
who  were  shrewd  enough  to  see  this  condition 
and  frankly  to  accept  it.  They  have  turned  their 
duty  into  pleasure,  and  then  claimed  for  them- 
selves only  the  inalienable  right  to  the  pursuit 
of  happiness.  If  in  this  pursuit  they  incidentally 
helped  their  neighbors,  they  hoped  that  this  would 
not  prejudice  any  one  against  them. 

Chaucer's  Clerk  of  Oxenforde  was  a  solemn- 
looking  person,  and  not  very  congenial  to  the 
more  full-blooded  members  of  the  company.  But 
they  doubtless  thought  better  of  him  when  they 
learned  that  "gladly  wolde  he  leme  and  gladly 
teche."  After  all,  those  old  books  were  not  his 
penance  but  his  recreation.  This  made  him  more 


1 88     MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN   PERSIA 

comprehensible  to  the  stout  miller  and  the  hon- 
est ploughman.  They  liked  him  better  because 
he  had  his  little  pleasures,  though  they  were  of  a 
queer  kind. 

A  disciple  came  to  Confucius  and,  with  that 
admirable  directness  in  asking  questions  charac- 
teristic of  Chinamen,  inquired,  "Master,  are  you 
a  sage*?"  Confucius  answered,  "No,  I  am  not  a 
sage,  I  am  only  one  who  learns  without  satiety, 
and  who  teaches  without  getting  tired." 

In  other  words,  he  was  a  healthy-minded  per- 
son who  enjoyed  his  intellectual  victuals  and  who 
liked  to  share  them  with  his  friends.  He  was 
naturally  given  to  intellectual  conviviality,  and 
had  been  lucky  enough  to  be  able  to  indulge 
these  tastes. 

Those  who  are  not  weary  in  well-doing  are 
those  who  make  the  freest  use  of  their  natural 
aptitudes.  They  do  not  allow  the  conscience  to 
be  overburdened  by  doing  all  the  work.  It  is 
"  spelled "  by  some  of  the  less  austere  faculties. 
The  results  are  more  satisfactory  than  if  there  had 
been  no  opportunity  for  moral  relaxation. 

There  was  John  Wesley.  His  "  Journal,"  with 
its  record  of  indefatigable  labor,  is  one  of  the 


MISSIONARY  LIFE   IN   PERSIA     189 

cheeriest  books  in  the  language.  What  a  rare 
good  time  he  had!  When  he  was  eighty-seven 
he  could  say,  "  I  do  not  remember  to  have  felt 
lowness  of  spirits  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  since 
I  was  born."  For  more  than  sixty  years  this  in- 
defatigable pleasure-seeker  had  been  doing  as  he 
pleased.  Up  every  day  in  time  to  preach  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning;  then  over  the  hills  or 
through  the  pleasant  lanes  to  preach  again  at 
about  the  time  lazy  citizens  were  ready  for  break- 
fast; off  again,  on  horseback  or  by  chaise  or  in  a 
lumbering  stage-coach,  for  more  preaching  to  vast 
crowds  of  sinners  — just  the  kind  of  sinners  he 
liked  to  preach  to.  Now  and  then  facing  a  mob, 
or  being  wet  through  in  a  thunderstorm,  or  stop- 
ping to  get  information  in  regard  to  some  old 
ruin.  Between  sermons  he  refreshed  his  mind  with 
all  sorts  and  conditions  of  books.  On  the  pleasant 
road  to  Chatham  he  reads  Tasso's  "Jerusalem 
Delivered."  On  the  road  to  Aberdeen  he  loses 
himself  delightedly  in  the  misty  sublimities  of 
Ossian.  "Orlando  Furioso"  is  good  Saturday 
reading.  The  eager  octogenarian  confesses  that 
"Astolpho's  shield  and  horn  and  voyage  to  the 
moon,  the  lance  that  unhorses  every  one,  the  all- 


I90    MISSIONARY   LIFE  IN   PERSIA 

penetrating  sword,  and  I  know  not  how  many 
impenetrable  helmets  and  shields  "  are  rather  too 
much  for  his  sober  English  imagination.  Still, 
they  afford  an  agreeable  interlude  in  his  mission- 
ary journeys.  Sterne's  "Sentimental  Journey"  he 
finds  very  absurd,  and  "  notable  chiefly  for  its 
unlikeness  to  all  the  world  beside."  Still,  it  is  not 
unpleasant  to  read. 

"Riding  to  Newcastle,  I  finished  the  tenth 
Iliad  of  Homer.  What  a  vein  of  piety  runs 
through  his  whole  work  in  spite  of  his  Pagan 
prejudices ! " 

On  his  way  to  preach  to  a  congregation  of 
Christians  for  whose  salvation  he  was  solicitous, 
he  refreshed  his  mind  by  reading  the  "  Medita- 
tions of  Marcus  Aurelius,"  of  whose  salvation  he 
had  no  doubt.  "  What  a  strange  Emperor  I  What 
a  strange  Heathen ! " 

Preaching  to  a  congregation  of  dour  Scotsmen 
he  urged  them  as  the  first  duty  to  cultivate  a  better 
disposition.  "  I  preached  from  i  Cor.  xiii,  1-2,  in 
utter  defiance  of  their  common  saying :  '  He  is  a 
good  man  though  he  has  bad  tempers.'  'Nay,' 
said  I,  *  if  he  has  bad  tempers  he  is  no  more  a 
good  man  than  the  Devil  is  a  good  angel.' " 


MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN    PERSIA     191 

I  should  not  go  so  far  as  Wesley.  The  good 
man  with  a  bad  temper  is  a  recognized  variety. 
We  must  accept  him  as  a  stubborn  fact.  His  joy- 
less efforts  to  rectify  the  world  are  genuine,  though 
they  create  in  the  heart  of  the  natural  man  an  un- 
fortunate prejudice  against  rectitude. 

But  we  can  say  that  such  a  good  man's  effort 
would  be  much  more  effective  if  his  disposition 
were  pleasanter. 

Jonathan  Edwards  went  as  missionary  to  the 
Indians  in  Stockbridge,  Massachusetts,  at  a  time 
when  Stockbridge  was  not  so  pleasant  a  place  of 
residence  as  it  is  now.  It  was  very  self-sacrificing 
in  him.  Still  our  sympathy  goes  out  chiefly  to 
the  Indians. 

Dr.  Grenfell,  on  the  other  hand,  falls  short  of 
Edwards's  ideal  of  disinterested  virtue,  for  he 
frankly  admits  that  he  likes  Labrador  and  its 
ways.  When  he  returns,  instead  of  melting  the 
hearts  of  the  Ladies'  Auxiliary  by  the  story  of 
his  hardships,  he  fires  the  minds  of  their  growing 
boys  with  the  desire  to  run  away  and  be  mission- 
aries themselves.  Yet  the  Labrador  fishermen  get 
more  out  of  it  than  they  would  if  Dr.  Grenfell 
did  not  have  such  a  good  time. 


192     MISSIONARY   LIFE   IN   PERSIA 

When  we  read  Borrow's  "Bible  in  Spain"  we 
feel  that  Borrow  would  have  gone  to  Spain  any 
way,  even  if  there  had  been  no  Bibles  to  dis- 
tribute. Nevertheless  his  natural  affinity  for  gyp- 
sies, muleteers,  and  picturesque  vagabonds  of  all 
sorts,  enabled  him  to  carry  the  Bible  into  out- 
of-the-way  places  which  would  never  have  been 
dreamed  of  by  a  zealous  person  of  sedentary 
habits. 

Those  whose  sense  of  duty  has  been  strongest 
have  often  acknowledged  their  indebtedness  to 
other  contributory  motives.  When  that  able  and 
pious  New  England  Puritan,  Thomas  Hooker, 
felt  that  it  was  his  duty  to  remove  his  congre- 
gation from  the  banks  of  the  Charles  River, 
and  found  a  new  colony  on  the  Connecticut,  he 
presented  the  question  of  duty  to  the  General 
Court. 

"  The  matter,"  says  Governor  Winthrop,  "  was 
debated  divers  days  and  many  reasons  were 
alleged  pro  and  con." 

But  the  decisive  consideration  was  presented 
last,  namely,  "  The  strong  bent  of  their  spirits  to 
remove  thither."  This  consideration  finally  carried 
the  day  in  spite  of  the  argument  that  "  the  re- 


MISSIONARY  LIFE  IN    PERSIA     193 

moving   of  a   candlestick  is  a  great  judgment 
which  is  to  be  avoided." 

There  is  always  something  to  be  said  in  favor 
of  the  strong  bent  of  the  spirit,  whether  it  tends 
toward  Connecticut  or  Persia. 


THE  COLONEL  IN  THE  THEOLOGI- 
CAL SEMINARY 


HOW  the  Colonel  got  the  appointment  to 
the  Chair  of  Military  Science  in  the  Theo- 
logical Seminary  would  be  too  long  a  story  to 
tell.  Indeed,  it  was  a  little  peculiar  that  there  was 
any  Chair  of  Military  Science  in  the  Theological 
Seminary.  It  constituted,  as  the  young  man  who 
wrote  it  up  for  the  newspapers  remarked,  "one 
of  the  most  unique  features  of  the  institution." 

There  was  no  mystery  about  the  chair,  how- 
ever. A  wealthy  gentleman  had  left  funds  for  its 
endowment,  and  the  Trustees  had  not  been  in- 
clined to  look  a  gift  horse  in  the  mouth.  They 
accepted  with  the  idea  that  they  might,  perhaps, 
secure  a  clergyman  who  had  been  a  chaplain  in 
the  militia,  and  who,  after  a  few  lectures  on  the 
manual  of  arms,  might  quietly  change  the  sub- 
ject to  something  more  definitely  related  to  the 
work  of  the  ministry.  It  was  only  by  accident 
that  they  got  a  retired  army  officer. 


THE   THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY    195 

I  confess  that  I  was  prejudiced  against  the  new 
chair,  for  I  am  naturally  opposed  to  fads  of  every 
description ;  I  am  also  opposed  to  war,  except  as 
a  last  resort.  I  disliked  to  see  the  wave  of  mili- 
tarism sweeping  over  the  Theological  Seminary. 
It  seemed  that  young  men  should  here  be  trained 
in  the  arts  of  peace.  I  feared  that  there  might  be 
a  recrudescence  of  controversy  or  militant  sectari- 
anism. Instead  of  disinterested  search  for  truth, 
there  might  be  only  a  planning  for  visible  suc- 
cess. I  even  feared  the  methods  of  the  Salvation 
Army.  The  thought  of  a  squad  of  students 
marching  to  the  sound  of  drum  and  fife  to  a  lec- 
ture on  Apologetics  offended  my  sense  of  the  fit- 
ness of  things. 

But  when  I  met  the  Colonel  my  fears  vanished. 
He  had  the  fine  simplicity  of  mind  that  is  char- 
acteristic of  the  best  men  of  his  profession.  He 
had  the  mildness  of  countenance  which  comes 
when  "  grim-visaged  war  hath  smoothed  his  wrin- 
kled front."  Moreover,  he  was  evidently  a  spirit- 
ually-minded and  free-minded  man.  If  he  would 
sacrifice  everything  for  success,  he  had  an  exceed- 
ingly high  ideal  of  those  things  wherein  true  suc- 
cess consists.  He  was  a  believer  in  arbitration  so 


196  THE  COLONEL   IN 

far  as  the  controversies  between  nations  are  con- 
cerned. The  cruelty  and  waste  of  the  physical 
strife  had  been  impressed  upon  him,  and  the 
thought  that  the  time  was  fast  approaching  when 
a  more  excellent  way  of  settling  differences  would 
come.  For  a  time  he  felt  that  his  occupation  was 
gone.  But  he  was  at  heart  a  soldier.  The  ideal 
aspect  of  his  profession  had  fascinated  him.  Mor- 
ally he  delighted  in  the  soldierly  virtues  of  cour- 
age, loyalty,  patience,  and  obedience  to  rightful 
authority,  —  the  virtues  that  belong  to  the  ordered 
life  of  armies.  Intellectually  the  problems  which 
fascinated  him  were  those  of  generalship.  Here 
the  mind  was  dealing  not  merely  with  the  uni- 
form movements  of  nature,  but  with  the  incalcu- 
lable powers  of  another  and  active  mind.  Here 
quickness  of  perception,  steadiness  of  will,  and 
comprehensiveness  of  judgment  were  tested  at 
every  step.  Military  genius  seemed  to  him  the 
most  wonderful  exhibition  of  pure  intellect. 

He  wondered  sometimes  what  would  become 
of  the  militant  qualities  he  so  loved  and  ad- 
mired when  — 

the  war  drum  throbbed  no  longer  and  the  battle-flags  were 
furled. 


THE   THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY    197 

It  was  then  that  the  idea  of  the  world  as  a  spir- 
itual battlefield  came  to  him.  Here  was  a  conflict 
offerees,  a  good  fight  to  be  fought.  He  looked 
about  for  some  organization  fitted  to  make  a 
strong  stand  against  the  evils  of  the  world.  He 
realized  the  significance  of  the  term  The  Church 
Militant.  That  was  enough  for  the  Colonel.  All 
the  ardor  of  youth  was  rekindled.  He  saw  at  once 
the  irrepressible  conflict  between  those  who  were 
banded  together  in  behalf  of  a  spiritual  ideal,  and 
the  forces  of  sensuality  and  selfishness.  "  Here  is 
something,"  he  said,  "  that  can't  be  arbitrated.  It 
must  be  fought  out.  The  Church  Militant  has,  I 
believe,  the  right  of  it,  but  the  question  is,  is  it 
strong  enough  to  win  out?  Has  it  mobilized  all 
its  forces,  and  is  it  prepared  to  assume  the  strate- 
gical offensive  *?  " 

When  he  was  called  to  the  Chair  of  Military 
Science  in  the  Theological  Seminary,  the  Colo- 
nel accepted  with  alacrity.  It  was  just  what  he 
was  looking  for.  He  took  it  for  granted  that  in 
a  training  school  of  officers  in  the  church  mili- 
tant, the  chief  concern  would  be  the  solution 
of  the  problems  connected  with  attack  and  de- 
fense. These  gallant  men  were  to  overcome  the 


198  THE   COLONEL   IN 

world;  they  must  learn  the  scientific  way  of 
doing  it. 

I  have  often  regretted  my  own  complete  ignor- 
ance of  military  science,  for  in  my  capacity  of  vis- 
itor at  the  Theological  Seminary  I  attended  many 
of  his  lectures.  Some  of  his  technical  terms  I  only 
imperfectly  understood,  and  many  of  his  allusions 
were  to  affairs  with  which  I  was  unfamiliar.  Some- 
times, too,  his  earlier  enthusiasms  got  the  better 
of  his  later  purposes,  and  he  would  spend  a  morn- 
ing over  the  campaigns  of  Marlborough,  illustrat- 
ing every  move  with  topographical  charts,  but 
leaving  no  time  to  point  out  the  bearing  of  all 
this  upon  the  work  of  the  ministry.  But  I  believe 
there  always  was  an  association  of  ideas  in  the 
Colonel's  mind. 

Perhaps  from  my  imperfect  notes  I  may  give 
some  idea  of  his  main  contentions.  Here  is  a  por- 
tion of  his  introductory  lecture. 

"  Young  gentlemen,  you  may  have  been  trou- 
bled, as  I  have  been,  by  questions  as  to  the  limita- 
tions proper  to  the  study  of  military  science  in 
this  institution.  It  appears  on  the  face  of  it  to  in- 
clude everything  necessary  to  the  successful  con- 


THE   THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY    199 

duct  of  your  profession.  But  a  glance  at  the  cur- 
riculum shows  that  many  other  branches  are 
taught  here.  In  fact,  your  profession  may  be 
approached  from  several  directions.  The  most 
familiar  approach  is  through  the  ancient  and  hon- 
orable science  of  husbandry.  A  knowledge  of 
agriculture  and  of  the  care  of  flocks  has  always 
been  insisted  upon. 

*'  Bishop  Hugh  Latimer,  in  his  admirable  ser- 
mon on  '  The  Plough '  insisted  on  careful  training 
in  this  matter. 

" '  The  preacher  and  the  ploughman  may  be 
likened  together  first  because  of  their  labour  of  all 
seasons  of  the  year,  for  there  is  no  time  of  the  year 
in  which  the  ploughman  has  not  some  special 
work  to  do ;  as  in  my  county  of  Leicestershire  the 
ploughman  has  a  time  to  set  forth  and  essay  the 
plough,  and  at  other  times  for  other  necessary 
work.  The  ploughman  first  setteth  forth  his 
plough,  and  then  tilleth  his  land  and  breaketh  it 
in  furrows,  and  sometimes  ridgeth  it  up  again, 
at  another  time,  harroweth  it  and  clotteth  it  and 
dungeth  it,  and  hedgeth  it  and  diggeth  it  and 
weedeth  it.  So  the  preacher  hath  a  busy  work 
with  the  people,  now  casting  them  down  with 


200  THE   COLONEL   IN 

the  law,  now  ridging  them  up  with  the  gospel, 
now  weeding  them  by  telling  them  their  faults, 
now  clotting  them  by  breaking  their  stony  hearts/ 

"  Latimer  made  a  plea  for  the  labor  that  pro- 
duced the  necessaries  of  the  spiritual  life,  rather 
than  the  fancy  horticulture  that  went  in  for  lux- 
uries. '  The  preaching  of  the  word  of  God  unto 
the  people  is  called  meat.  The  Scripture  calleth 
it  meat,  not  strawberries.' 

"  My  colleague  who  instructs  you  in  Pastoral 
Care  has  doubtless  made  you  familiar  with  the 
history  and  methods  of  the  cultural  work  of  your 
profession. 

"But  I  sometimes  fear  that  the  agricultural 
aspects  of  your  work,  important  as  they  un- 
doubtedly are,  may  have  been  emphasized  at  the 
expense  of  that  which  is  equally  vital.  A  too 
pacific  and  yielding  temper  of  mind  is  the  result 
of  a  training  that  ignores  the  elements  of  conflict. 

"The  lack  of  attention  to  military  science 
manifests  itself  in  a  number  of  ways.  For  exam- 
ple, I  have  often  noticed  the  way  in  which  the 
members  of  your  profession  interpret  the  call  of 
duty  to  what  they  speak  of  as  'a  larger  field  of 
usefulness.'  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  their  dis- 


THE   THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  201 

interestedness,  but  I  have  been  often  amazed  at 
what  they  called  a  larger  field.  Frequently  they 
will  evacuate  a  strategic  point,  leaving  an  impor- 
tant part  of  the  field  open  to  the  enemy,  and  re- 
tire to  a  position  of  no  importance  for  offensive 
operations.  I  could  not  understand  the  movement 
till  it  was  explained  to  me  that  they  are  accus- 
tomed to  use  the  word  "field"  in  an  agricultural 
rather  than  in  a  military  sense.  They  are  not 
thinking  of  it  as  a  field  of  battle,  where  a  lonely 
hilltop  may  be  the  key  to  the  situation;  they  are 
thinking  of  a  field  fenced  in  and  under  pastoral 
care. 

"Not  long  ago  I  was  invited,  on  a  Monday 
morning,  to  a  ministers*  meeting  which  discussed 
the  present  condition  of  religion.  Knowing  that 
the  situation  is  critical,  I  went  with  keen  expect- 
ancy. 

"  The  company  was  divided,  not  in  regard  to 
the  expediency  of  any  particular  movements,  but 
only  by  temperamental  differences.  Some  felt 
that  everything  would  come  out  right  if  let  alone ; 
these  were  called  optimists.  Others,  who  were 
somewhat  reproachfully  called  pessimists,  agreed 
very  contentedly  that  everything  is  going  to  the 


202  THE   COLONEL  IN 

dogs.  Neither  side  suggested  that  they  could  do 
much  about  it  one  way  or  the  other. 

"  'Gentlemen/ 1  said, '  I  understood  that  this  was 
to  be  a  council  of  war.  Instead  of  a  plan  of  cam- 
paign you  seem  to  have  brought  out  a  clinical 
thermometer  in  order  to  take  each  other's  temper- 
ature. On  the  eve  of  an  engagement  the  question 
is  not  how  you  feel,  but  what  you  intend  to  do. 
Nobody  is  interested  in  your  symptoms.  The 
only  temper  which  befits  men  who  are  called  to 
leadership  is  that  which  Wordsworth  describes  in 
his  character  of  the  Happy  Warrior :  — 

**  'Who  is  the  happy  Warrior  ?  Who  is  he 
That  every  man  in  arms  should  wish  to  be  ? 
—  It  is  the  generous  Spirit,  who,  when  brought 
Among  the  tasks  of  real  life,  hath  wrought 
Upon  the  plan  that  pleased  his  boyish  thought ; 

Who,  with  a  natural  instinct  to  discern 

What  knowledge  can  perform,  is  diligent  to  learn ; 

Abides  by  this  resolve  and  stops  not  there. 

But  makes  his  moral  being  his  prime  care ; 

Who,  doomed  to  go  in  company  with  Pain, 

And  Fear,  and  Bloodshed,  miserable  train  ! 

Turns  his  necessity  to  glorious  gain. 

" '  You  will  observe  that  the  Happy  Warrior  has 


THE   THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  203 

a  twofold  task.  He  must  have  a  knowledge  of  stem 
necessity,  and  a  knowledge  how  to  turn  his  stem 
necessity  to  glorious  gain/ 

"In  preparing  myself  for  the  duties  of  this 
professorship,  I  have  been  impressed  by  the  fact 
that  the  art  of  spiritual  warfare  has  not  kept  pace 
with  that  which  is  on  the  material  plane.  Anti- 
quated methods  and  theories,  in  regard  both  to 
equipment  and  tactics,  are  still  tolerated.  In  many 
instances  there  seems  to  be  little  advance  over 
the  primitive  notion  of  war  as  a  series  of  dis- 
connected single  combats.  The  Happy  Warrior, 
accoutred  in  ancient  fashion,  will  sally  forth  chal- 
lenging a  foe  that  is  perfectly  disciplined  and 
armed  with  weapons  of  precision. 

"  I  have  noticed  this  lack  of  contemporaneous- 
ness in  most  attempts  at  treating  this  subject.  In 
the  seventeenth  century  John  Bunyan  published 
a  military  manual  entitled  *The  Holy  War.'  It 
was  an  account  of  the  operations  around  the  for- 
tified town  of  Man-soul.  Many  individual  acts 
of  valor  are  narrated,  but  it  is  remarkable  that 
throughout  the  campaign  the  forces  of  Immanuel 
were  armed  with  the  traditional  weapons, — 
swords,  spears,  darts,   slings,  etc.,  —  while  only 


204  THE   COLONEL    IN 

the  Diabolian  army  seems  to  have  understood 
the  use  of  gunpowder. 

"Here,  for  example,  is  an  account  of  one  of 
the  many  attacks  upon  Man-soul.  The  investing 
army  had  concentrated  its  forces  upon  Ear-gate, 
which  was  in  accordance  with  the  usual  tactics 
of  the  Puritans,  they  having  been  inclined  to 
undervalue  the  strategic  importance  of  Eye-gate 
and  Feel-gate.  'Now  they  in  the  town  had 
planted  in  the  tower  over  Ear-gate  two  great  guns, 
the  one  called  High-mind  and  the  other  Heady ; 
unto  these  guns  they  trusted  much.' 

"  What  follows  is  of  great  interest  to  the  stu- 
dent of  our  art.  '  Now  the  King's  captains  brought 
with  them  several  slings  and  two  or  three  batter- 
ing rams,  and  with  them  they  sought  to  break 
Ear-gate  open.  With  much  valour  they  let  fly  as 
fast  as  they  could  at  Ear-gate,  for  they  saw  that 
unless  they  could  break  open  Ear-gate  they  would 
in  vain  batter  the  wall.  .  .  .  But  Man-soul  held 
out  lustily  through  the  valour  of  Old  Incredulity 
the  Mayor  and  Mr.  Forgetgood  the  Recorder, 
and  the  charge  and  expense  of  the  war  on  the 
King's  side  seemed  to  be  quite  lost.  And  when 
the  captains  saw  how  it  was,  they  made  a  fair  re- 


THE    THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  205 

treat  and  entrenched  themselves  in  their  winter- 
quarters/ 

"Bunyan,  who  was  more  interested  in  the 
moral  than  in  the  scientific  aspect  of  the  war, 
seems  to  have  seen  no  connection  between  the  an- 
tiquated weapons  of  the  assailants  and  their  ill 
success.  No  careful  student,  however,  will  be  sur- 
prised at  the  failure  of  an  attack  upon  artillery  in 
an  entrenched  position,  by  a  detachment  provided 
only  with  slings  and  battering  rams. 

"  You,  young  gentlemen,  will  be  called  upon 
to  make  many  attacks  upon  Ear-gate.  It  will  not 
be  enough  that  you  are  individually  more  valiant 
than  Old  Incredulity  or  Mr.  Forgetgood.  You 
must  bring  against  them  such  superior  force  as 
will  compel  capitulation. 

"A  sound  military  education  involves  much 
discipline.  At  your  chapel  services  this  morning 
you  sang  *  Onward,  Christian  soldiers,  marching 
as  to  war,'  though  in  a  way  that  suggested  that 
more  attention  should  be  paid  to  company  drill. 
Marching  as  to  war  is  quite  a  different  matter 
from  strolling  down  the  street.  A  perception  of 
this  obvious  difference  might  have  saved  you  from 
several  mistakes  which  I  noted. 


2o6  THE    COLONEL   IN 

"'Like  a  mighty  army  moves  the  Church  of 
God/  This  involves  that  branch  of  our  science 
called  Logistics,  which  includes  all  the  details  of 
the  movements  and  supply  of  armies,  and  the 
choice  of  roads.  It  involves  the  ordering  of  the 
different  divisions,  that  they  may  move  so  as  not 
to  interfere  with  one  another,  but  may  give  mu- 
tual support  in  case  of  attack. 

"  I  fear  that  the  training  in  Logistics  has  been 
neglected  in  the  Theological  Seminary,  as  I  meet 
with  graduates  who  scarcely  know  what  to  make 
of  the  mighty  army  when  they  see  it  in  motion. 
All  their  arrangements  are  made  on  the  assump- 
tion that  the  church  is  meant  to  be  stationary,  and 
that  its  officers  should  lead  a  sedentary  life.  Their 
chief  concern  is  in  the  construction  of  permanent 
barracks. 

"  Logistical  considerations  are  ignored,  not  only 
by  those  who  are  averse  to  movements  of  any 
kind,  but  also  by  those  restless  spirits  who  are  all 
the  time  advocating  sudden  and  unrelated  move- 
ments which  are  incapable  of  execution  by  any 
large  force,  encumbered,  as  it  necessarily  must  be, 
by  its  heavy  trains.  They  give  no  heed  to  Napo- 
leon's maxim  that  'the  secret  of  war  lies  in  its 


THE   THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  207 

communications/  They  seem  to  imagine  that 
armies  can  be  moved  hither  and  thither  on  the 
impulse  of  the  moment.  This  is  far  from  being 
the  case.  Moving  a  considerable  number  of  hu- 
man beings  from  one  place  to  another  is  always 
a  transaction  of  considerable  difficulty.  The  more 
experience  a  person  has  had,  the  more  he  realizes 
the  embarrassments  inseparable  from  moving-day. 
"To  take  an  example  from  civilian  life:  a 
gentleman  in  moderate  circumstances  wishes  to 
move  his  family,  for  the  summer,  to  the  country. 
In  making  his  plans  he  has  to  consider,  besides 
himself,  his  wife,  six  children,  and  two  maids, — 
ten  persons  in  all,  —  no  very  considerable  force. 
But  the  problem  of  actually  moving  them  to  a 
specified  position  on  a  certain  date  involves  stra- 
tegic combinations  which  almost  reduce  him  to 
despair.  He  cannot  move  freely  to  any  breezy 
hilltop  which  strikes  his  vagrant  fancy.  His  choice 
is  severely  limited  by  considerations  which  he 
had  at  first  view  overlooked.  There  is  the  matter 
of  transportation  ;  he  cannot  move  too  far  from 
the  railroad.  He  must  look  carefully  at  the  water 
supply  before  he  occupies  an  otherwise  advanta- 
geous position.  In  case  of  a  sudden  call,  he  must 


ao8  THE   COLONEL  IN 

secure  a  line  of  retreat  to  the  city,  and  make  sure 
of  constant  communication  with  the  butcher,  the 
grocer,  and  the  post-office.  Even  for  the  sake  of 
bracing  air  and  an  excellent  view,  he  dare  not 
move  too  far  from  a  yeast-cake.  He  may  have 
started  out  with  the  most  adventurous  plan  of 
campaign,  but  after  consultation  with  the  domes- 
tic Board  of  Strategy  he  determines  to  confine  the 
summer  movements  well  within  the  range  of  the 
commonplace.  Even  then,  when  the  eventful  day 
arrives  his  mind  is  ill  at  ease.  Shall  his  little  army 
move  as  one  body  ?  He  shrinks  from  the  weight 
of  responsibility  that  is  involved.  He  determines 
to  divide  into  two  detachments  advancing  by 
parallel  roads,  then  gradually  converging  and 
forming  a  junction  at  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon. It  is  one  of  the  simplest  strategic  manoeu- 
vres, and  yet  he  knows  from  past  experience  how 
many  chances  there  are  against  its  complete  suc- 
cess. 

"  Now,  if  the  problems  of  Logistics  are  so  dif- 
ficult in  the  case  of  an  honest  householder  who 
has  not  a  single  known  enemy  to  molest  him  or 
make  him  afraid,  what  must  they  be  for  him  who 
has  to  make  all  the  arrangements  of  moving-day 


THE   THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  209 

for  a  hundred  thousand  men,  in  the  face  of  an 
energetic  enemy.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
the  enemy  can  be  treated  as  a  negligible  quantity 
only  by  the  strategists  of  the  easy-chair. 

"  The  critics  of  the  church  are  accustomed  to 
berate  it  for  not  doing  at  once  all  the  admirable 
things  which  they  see  ought  to  be  done.  Their 
cry  is  like  that  which  assailed  the  successive  com- 
manders of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  during  the 
Civil  War :  '  On  to  Richmond ! '  Even  the  most 
unsuccessful  of  the  generals  recognized  the  beauty 
of  the  advice,  as  a  counsel  of  perfection.  They 
were  all  anxious  enough  to  be  in  Richmond; 
what  troubled  them  was  how  to  get  there.  A  very 
disquieting  thought  always  in  the  background  of 
a  general's  consciousness  is  that,  if  he  makes  a 
mistake,  he  may  not  have  any  army  to  move. 

"  It  will  be  your  duty  to  be  continually  urging 
your  fellow  men  to  new  exertions,  but  you  will 
spoil  your  temper  to  no  good  purpose  unless  you 
know  how  much  can  reasonably  be  expected  of 
them.  You  must  carefully  consider  the  obstacles 
to  be  overcome,  and  the  provisions  to  be  carried, 
and  what  is  to  be  taken  as  a  fair  day's  march. 
You  must  be  aware  that  a  great  army  taking  per- 


2IO  THE   COLONEL   IN 

manent  possession  of  the  territory  which  it  has 
conquered,  and  establishing  itself  in  such  a  way 
that  it  cannot  be  dislodged,  moves  at  a  different 
speed  from  a  detachment  of  cavalry  on  a  raid. 
Occasionally  you  may  have  the  exciting  experi- 
ence of  being  on  a  raiding  party,  but  as  you  rise 
into  more  responsible  positions  you  must  be  pre- 
pared to  deal  with  the  more  serious  problems 
which  confront  an  army  of  occupation. 

"The  most  perplexing  situations  arise  in  the 
course  of  any  widely  extended  advance  move- 
ment. An  army  advancing  into  the  enemy's  coun- 
try is  continually  losing  strength  at  the  front. 
There  are  always  numerous  stragglers,  and  large 
numbers  of  troops  have  to  be  left  behind  to  guard 
the  ever  lengthening  lines  of  communication.  An 
army  in  an  orderly  retreat  gathers  in  its  stragglers 
and  its  rear  guard,  so  that  it  is  numerically  aug- 
mented as  it  falls  back.  *  Attacking  armies,'  it  has 
been  said,  'melt  away  like  the  snow.'  Napoleon 
in  1812  crossed  the  Russian  frontier  with  442,000 
men,  and  reached  Moscow  with  only  95,000. 
In  1 810  the  French  crossed  the  Pyrenees  with 
400,000,  and  after  a  successful  advance  reached 
the   lines  of  Torres  Vedras  with  only  45,000. 


THE    THEOLOGICAL   SEMINARY  211 

Even  the  Germans  in  1870,  out  of  an  army  of 
372,000  which  crossed  the  frontier,  after  a  six 
weeks'  campaign  brought  only  171,000  men  to 
Paris. 

"  You  will  note  many  illustrations  of  this  law 
of  the  diminishing  power  of  the  strategic  offensive 
in  the  conduct  of  the  church  militant.  The  most 
progressive  bodies  tend  to  waste  away  as  they 
advance,  while  reactionary  movements  bring  a 
rapid  augmentation  in  numbers.  For  this  reason 
many  members  of  your  profession  seek  a  larger 
fellowship  by  retreating  in  good  order  to  the  po- 
sition they  had  left  yesterday.  They  are  much 
pleased  to  find  so  many  friends  tenting  on  the  old 
camp  ground.  Their  delight  in  these  reunions 
speaks  well  for  their  amiability,  but  it  sometimes 
interferes  with  their  military  efficiency.  The  les- 
son which  the  soldierly  mind  draws  from  the  rapid 
diminution  of  the  advance  guard  is  that  especial 
pains  must  be  taken  to  keep  it  continually  rein- 
forced. 

"  A  distinguished  teacher  of  the  art  of  war  re- 
marks, '  We  are  right  in  describing  the  ever  di- 
minishing power  of  the  strategical  offensive  as  an 
unavoidable  drawback,  which  has  to  be  taken  into 


212  THE  COLONEL   IN 

account  and  which  invariably  becomes  more  pro- 
nounced the  longer  the  line  becomes  over  which 
the  attack  advances.  The  existence  of  this  draw- 
back requires  that  measures  should  be  adopted  in 
the  way  of  organization  and  strategy  continually 
to  reinforce  the  fighting  head  of  the  army  with 
reserves.  The  main  roads  in  the  rear  of  an  advanc- 
ing army  should  never  be  allowed  to  become 
empty.' 

"  I  commend  this  advice  to  any  of  you  young 
gentlemen  who  may  have  the  honor  to  undertake 
any  forward  movement.  The  most  gallant  advance 
will  be  futile  if  you  have  neglected  to  provide  a 
reserve  force  which  may  be  brought  forward  ac- 
cording to  the  need." 

I  have  heard  several  members  of  the  Faculty 
criticise  the  Colonel  for  the  way  in  which  he  would 
trespass  on  the  fields  of  his  colleagues.  I  believe 
that  this  was  altogether  unintentional.  Like  Sir 
Philip  Sidney,  when  he  heard  of  a  good  war  he 
went  to  it.  He  was  quite  unaware  that  in  doing 
so  he  disarranged  the  curriculum.  One  day  I  en- 
tered his  classroom  as  he  was  beginning  a  lecture 
on  the  military  principles  of  Homiletics.  I  was  a 


THE    THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  213 

little  disturbed  at  this,  as  we  had  already  a  pro- 
fessor of  Homiletics  who  was  highly  esteemed. 
However,  the  Colonel  approached  the  subject 
from  a  different  point  of  view. 

"The  first  essential  of  Homiletics,"  he  said,  "is 
that  you  should  shoot  straight.  You  have  doubt- 
less already  received  instruction  on  this  point, 
and  I  shall,  therefore,  confine  myself  to  questions 
of  tactics. 

"I  went  to  church  yesterday  and  witnessed  a 
series  of  operations  that  filled  me  with  dismay. 
The  minister  began  by  seizing  a  text  as  a  base  of 
operations.  I  observed  that  the  base  was  not  se- 
cure, but  this  made  less  difference,  as  he  was  evi- 
dently prepared  to  change  his  base  if  the  exigen- 
cies of  the  engagement  demanded  it.  His  first 
mistake  was  one  of  overcaution.  In  order  to  de- 
fend himself  from  an  attack  from  the  Higher  Crit- 
ics, he  had  strengthened  his  fi-ont  by  barbed  wire 
entanglements  in  the  way  of  exegesis.  This  was 
an  enor  of  judgment,  as  the  Higher  Critics  were 
not  on  the  field,  at  least  in  sufficient  force  to 
take  the  offensive.  The  entanglements  intended 
to  keep  a  hypothetical  foe  from  getting  at  him 
prevented  him  from  getting  at  once  at  the  real 


214  THE  COLONEL   IN 

enemy.  He  thus  lost  the  psychological  moment 
for  attack. 

"  While  he  was  endeavoring  to  extricate  him- 
self from  his  own  defenses  I  trembled  for  the  issue 
of  the  affair.  Having  finally  emerged  into  the 
open,  he  was  apparently  prepared  for  vigorous 
operations.  I  watched  intently  for  the  develop- 
ment of  his  plan.  I  was  bewildered  by  the  rapidity 
of  his  evolutions.  With  a  sudden  access  of  cour- 
age he  would  make  a  wild  charge  against  an  an- 
cient line  of  breastworks  which  had  long  been 
evacuated.  Then  he  would  sweep  across  the  whole 
field  of  thought,  under  coyer  of  his  artillery,  which 
was  evidently  not  furnished  with  accurate  range- 
finders.  The  next  minute  he  would  be  engaged 
in  a  frontal  attack  on  the  entrenched  position  of 
Modem  Science.  Just  as  his  forces  approached 
the  critical  point,  he  halted  and  retreated  to  his 
textual  base.  Re-forming  his  shattered  forces,  he 
would  sally  forth  in  a  new  direction. 

"  At  first  I  attributed  to  him  a  masterly  strategy 
in  so  long  concealing  his  true  objective.  He  was, 
I  thought,  only  reconnoitering  in  force,  before 
calling  up  his  reserves  and  delivering  a  decisive 
blow  at  an  unexpected  point 


THE    THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  215 

"  At  last  the  suspicion  came  that  he  had  no 
objective,  and  that  he  did  n't  even  know  that  he 
should  have  one.  He  had  never  pondered  the 
text  about  the  futility  of  fighting  as  '  one  that 
beateth  the  air.' 

"As  we  came  away  a  parishioner  remarked, 
'  That  was  a  fine  effort,  this  morning/ 

" '  An  effort  at  what  ? '  I  inquired. 

"How  many  such  unfortunate  enterprises 
might  be  avoided  if  there  were  a  clear  under- 
standing of  a  few  guiding  principles  which  have 
been  deduced  from  experience  on  many  a  well- 
fought  field.  Among  them  are  such  maxims  as 
these : — 

"  Always  attack  where  the  moral  effect  will  be 
greatest. 

"  Strike  the  enemy's  flank  in  preference  to  his 
front ;  threaten  his  line  of  retreat. 

"  Do  not  offer  battle  except  on  your  own  ground 
and  at  your  own  time. 

"  Never  attack  unless  you  are  in  superior  force. 

"  Never  knock  your  head  against  a  strong  posi- 
tion." 

The  Colonel  quoted  with  approval  Lord  Wol- 
seley's  remarks  on  the  best  way  of  teaching  mili- 


2i6  THE   COLONEL  IN 

tary  history.  "  By  far  the  most  useful  way  of  teach- 
ing military  history  is  to  find  out  from  your  books 
as  far  as  possible  what  the  situation  was  at  a  given 
time,  then  shut  the  books,  take  the  maps,  and 
decide  for  yourself  what  you  would  have  done, 
had  you  been  in  the  place  of  one  of  the  com- 
manding generals.  Then  write  your  orders.  You 
are  thus  dealing  with  a  problem  that  actually 
occurred;  and  remember  that  war  presents  a  con- 
stant series  of  such  problems  to  every  officer  who 
may  hold  an  independent  command." 

The  Colonel  was  accustomed  to  follow  this 
plan.  He  particularly  admired  Chrysostom,  whom 
he  called  the  Napoleon  of  divines.  He  had  the 
class  make  a  special  study  of  Chrysostom's  ser- 
mons "  Concerning  the  Statues."  He  first  made 
them  familiar  with  the  details  of  the  situation  in 
Antioch.  There  had  been  a  riot  in  which  the 
statues  of  the  Emperor  had  been  dragged  about 
the  city.  The  Emperor,  enraged,  threatened  ven- 
geance; a  panic  followed,  then  an  embassy  to 
ask  pardon,  and  long  days  of  terrified  waiting. 
Each  day  the  people  flocked  to  the  church  for 
some  word  of  help. 

"  Put  yourself  in  the  place  of  Chrysostom  and 


f 


THE    THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  217 

plan  your  sermons  according  to  the  changing 
situation.  Meet  each  crisis  as  best  you  can.  After 
you  have  done  this,  we  may  see  how  Chrysostom 
did  it" 

Occasionally  he  would  present  a  sermon  for 
criticism.  Thus,  he  asked  the  opinion  of  the  class 
on  a  sermon  by  the  fine  old  Puritan  divine,  John 
Howe,  on  "A  Particular  Faith  in  Prayer."  Before 
he  had  reached  Howe's  fifteenthly,  the  unanimous 
opinion  was  that  it  had  one  fault,  it  was  too  long. 

"  That  is  a  point  worthy  of  consideration,"  said 
the  Colonel.  "  The  undue  extension  of  the  lines 
is,  under  most  circumstances,  a  cause  of  weakness. 
But  you  must  remember  that  Howe  was  not  con- 
ducting a  vesper  service ;  he  was  preaching  before 
Oliver  Cromwell.  His  object  was  not  to  please 
Cromwell,  but  to  convince  him.  This  took  time, 
for  Oliver  was  prepared  to  resist  stoutly  every 
advance.  We  are  told  that  during  the  discourse 
Cromwell  was  observed  to  *  pay  marked  attention, 
but,  as  was  his  custom  when  displeased,  knit  his 
brows  and  manifested  other  symptoms  of  uneasi- 
ness.' 

"  It  is  easy  for  you,  young  gentlemen,  to  criti- 
cise the  deliberation  of  Howe's  movements,  but 


21 8  THE  COLONEL   IN 

the  question  is  how  you  would  improve  upon  it. 
Let  me  give  you  this  exercise.  You  have  Oliver 
Cromwell  before  you  '  paying  marked  attention.* 
Your  problem  is  to  convince  him  quite  against 
his  will  that  he  has  been  mistaken.  You  must 
make  a  careful  preliminary  study  of  Cromwell, 
and  learn  all  that  you  can  of  the  disposition  of 
his  moral  and  spiritual  forces.  Then  make  your 
plans  accordingly. 

"  After  you  have  made  two  or  three  unsuccess- 
ful attempts  to  carry  Oliver's  position  by  storm, 
I  imagine  you  may  think  more  favorably  of 
Howe's  method.  It  was  that  of  a  regular  siege. 
You  will  observe  that  he  first  makes  a  wide  en- 
veloping movement  which  ends  in  a  complete 
investment.  Then  his  forces  advance  cautiously 
in  two  main  lines,  keeping  under  cover  as  much 
as  possible.  It  is  now  a  case  for  sapping  and  min- 
ing. To  cover  the  approach  fifteen  parallels  are 
constructed,  — and  m  my  opinion  they  were  not 
too  many." 

On  one  of  my  last  visits  to  the  Colonel's  class- 
room he  was  discussing  the  present  crisis  in  the 
Christian   Church.  He   elucidated  his  ideas   by 


THE   THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  219 

means  of  the  maps  of  Grant's  battles  in  the  Wil- 
derness. 

"The  greatness  of  Grant  consisted  in  his  ability 
to  do  two  things  at  the  same  time.  He  must  make 
a  strong  fight  at  the  front  against  Lee's  army,  and 
at  the  same  time  must  change  his  base  from  the 
precarious  railroad  to  the  more  effective  water- 
ways. 

"  The  public  were  more  particularly  interested 
in  what  was  happening  at  the  front,  and  were  de- 
lighted at  Grant's  declaration  that  he  would  '  fight 
it  out  on  this  line  if  it  takes  all  summer.'  But  the 
student  of  military  affairs  is  most  interested  in 
what  took  place  at  the  rear. 

"  The  Christian  Church  is  at  this  moment  en- 
gaged in  this  most  perilous,  but  often  necessary 
manoeuvre,  —  a  change  of  base  in  the  face  of  the 
enemy,  and  as  a  part  of  a  grand  forward  move- 
ment. 

"There  is  a  call  for  courage  at  the  front,  but 
the  question  is  in  regard  to  the  communications. 
The  line  of  communication,  with  the  base  in  In- 
fallible Authority,  has  been  cut;  the  necessity  is 
to  establish  free  and  adequate  communication  with 
the  ample  supplies  which  are  believed  to  exist  in 


220  THE   COLONEL   IN 

the  Religious  Nature  of  Man,  and  in  the  Spirit- 
ual Realities  of  the  Universe. 

"If  this  can  be  done  in  time,  the  advance 
against  the  strongholds  of  Sin  can  go  on :  if  not, 
there  is  sure  to  be  disaster.  It  is  to  arrest  this  dis- 
aster that  you  are  to  put  forth  all  your  efforts. 

"  In  the  presence  of  the  dangers  that  confront 
you,  I  must  remind  you  of  the  difference  which 
exists  between  war  and  all  imitations  of  it.  I  have 
dwelt  much  on  strategy  and  tactics,  a  knowledge 
of  which  I  look  upon  as  indispensable,  but  let 
me  remind  you  that  battles  are  not  won  in  the 
armchair.  The  great  thing  is  to  have  collected 
sufficient  force  and  to  put  it  forth  to  the  utter- 
most. 

"  In  order  to  arouse  tlie  true  professional  spirit 
which  is  necessary  for  victory,  I  would  recom- 
mend a  recent  book  by  a  British  naval  officer, 
entitled  *  Heresies  of  Sea  Power.'  You  will  ob- 
serve that  the  same  principles  apply  to  the  other 
branch  of  the  service  that  we  recognize  in  con- 
flicts on  land. 

"The  gallant  writer  analyzes  the  great  sea 
fights  of  history ;  in  the  attempt  to  find  some  law 
governing  success  he  finds  there  is  no  trick  by 


THE    THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY  221 

which  a  half-hearted  power  can  overcome  one  that 
is  alert  and  persevering  and  daring. 

"The  only  formula  that  he  arrives  at — that  he 
sets  forth  as  a  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter — 
is  fitness  to  win. 

"  Who  are  those  who  are  fit  to  win?  not  those 
merely  who  have  the  command  of  good  material, 
but  those  who,  having  it,  are  impelled  by  an 
overwhelming  desire  to  use  it  to  the  uttermost  in 
carrying  on  the  project  in  which  they  are  engaged. 
'The  full  possession  of  that  desire,'  he  says,  'has 
implied  caution  where  caution  was  required,  rash- 
ness where  rashness  was  the  better  way — but  al- 
ways because  of  the  fullness  of  the  desire.' 

"  The  great  cause  of  failure,  he  insists,  has  been 
feebleness  of  purpose.  '  Whatever  its  inferiority 
in  heavy  guns  cost  the  Spanish  Armada,  its  in- 
ability to  use  effectively  such  guns  as  it  had,  and 
to  secure  sufficient  ammunition  for  them,  cost  it  a 
great  deal  more.' 

"  You,  young  gentlemen,  in  preparing  for  act- 
ive service,  should  seek  the  best  equipment  pos- 
sible, but  remember  that '  fitness  to  win'  is  indicated 
not  by  mere  superiority  in  heavy  guns,  but  by  the 
ability  to  use  effectively  such  guns  as  you  have." 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 


POLITICAL  economy  in  its  early  career 
gained  the  reputation  of  being  "the  dismal 
science."  But  what  used  to  be  called  Moral  Sci- 
ence was  a  good  second.  To  take  up  a  text-book 
on  the  subject,  published  a  generation  ago,  is 
painful  in  the  extreme.  The  treatise  seems  to  be 
but  a  series  of  lame  apologies  for  its  own  exist- 
ence. 

Can  there  be  such  a  thing  as  Moral  Science  ? 
The  author  candidly  admits  that  until  his  appear- 
ance on  the  scene  there  had  been  none.  Before 
you  can  have  a  science  you  must  know  what  it 
is  about.  You  must  define  your  subject-matter. 
Whereupon  he  begins  to  pick  flaws  in  all  the  de- 
finitions that  have  hitherto  been  made.  It  appears 
that  most  of  those  who  have  attempted  to  deal 
with  the  subject  did  n't  know  Morality  when  they 
saw  it.  They  have  been  acutely  analyzing  some- 
thing else. 

Having  given  his  own  definition,  he  then  pro- 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS    223 

ceeds  to  defend  it  against  all  comers.  He  loves  it 
for  the  enemies  it  has  made.  He  successfully  re- 
futes all  criticisms  made  by  other  Professors  of 
Moral  Science,  who,  it  appears,  are  not  so  wise 
as  they  might  be. 

It  is  a  good  definition,  and  the  only  thing  that 
remains  is  to  find  out  whether  it  fits  the  facts  in 
the  case.  It  appears  that  this  is  rather  difficult, 
for  facts  come  in  odd  sizes.  Good  men  whom  we 
happen  to  know,  or  whose  biographies  we  have 
read,  ought  to  act  in  strict  accord  with  the  ascer- 
tained laws  of  Moral  Science.  But  many  good 
men  are  not  Strict  Constructionists.  Even  the 
gentlemen  who  endowed  the  Chair  of  Moral  Sci- 
ence may  not  have  proceeded  strictly  according 
to  rule.  It  is  necessary,  then,  to  make  some  ad- 
justments between  the  Moral  Law  and  the  con- 
duct of  the  respectable  classes  of  the  community. 

One  watches  the  process  of  adjustment  as  the 
frugal  householder,  when  he  undertakes  to  do 
the  family  marketing,  watches  the  butcher  who 
is  selling  him  four  pounds  of  lamb  chops.  First 
the  meat,  for  which  the  market  price  is  exacted, 
is  carefully  weighed.  There  is  something  gener- 
ous in  this  transaction,  and  trifles  are  not  taken 


224    THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

into  account.  But  in  the  delivery  of  his  goods  the 
butcher  uses  the  intensive  method.  He  proceeds 
conscientiously  to  trim  each  chop  to  the  deHcate 
proportions  demanded  by  the  epicure  who  will 
eat  only  the  best.  The  trimmings  he  throws  into 
a  receptacle  provided  for  them.  The  householder 
meekly  accepts  the  precious  remnants  which  are 
finally  awarded  him,  and  wends  his  way  home- 
ward. As  he  walks,  he  wonders  why  he  did  not 
get  all  that  he  paid  for. 

So  the  Professor  of  Moral  Science,  after  he  has 
shown  us  the  Moral  Law  in  its  entirety,  proceeds 
to  pare  it  down.  It  seems  that  there  are  parts  of 
it  that  mar  the  symmetry  of  the  science,  when 
viewed  as  a  practical  one.  He  cheerfully  throws 
away  the  non-essentials.  We  look  wistfully  at 
these  non-essentials.  The  few  essentials  that  are 
left  may  be  nourishing,  but  they  are  not  filling. 

The  suspicion  grows  that  the  ethical  element 
in  the  life  of  man  is  likely  to  escape  scientific 
analysis.  Science  deals  with  existing  things.  It 
can  trace  their  origin,  it  can  follow  their  devel- 
opment, it  can  classify  them.  But  the  subject- 
matter  of  ethics  is  not  an  existing  thing  at  all.  It 
is  not  something  that  has  been  done,  but  the  idea 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS    225 

of  what  ought  to  be  done.  To  the  ethical  inquirer 
the  actual  is  only  the  point  of  departure  in  the 
quest  of  the  morally  possible.  If  you  do  not  be- 
lieve that  it  is  possible  for  men  to  be  better  than 
they  are,  then  ethics  will  not  interest  you.  If  you 
do  believe  that  they  can  be  better,  the  question 
will  arise,  How  much  better  ?  To  this  there  can 
be  no  scientific  answer.  We  are  not  dealing  now 
with  things  as  they  are  but  with  "  things  that  are 
not,"  which  continually  do  "bring  to  naught 
things  that  are." 

It  is  possible  to  make  an  inventory  of  so  much 
good  as  has  been  produced.  This  is  the  residuum 
of  past  effort,  it  is  not  the  effort  itself  Science 
cannot  lay  hold  of  "the  fleeting  image  of  the 
unstable  Best."  It  can  justify  and  explain  the 
conduct  of  law-abiding  citizens,  but  it  cannot 
measure  the  worth  of  one  who  is  "numbered 
among  the  transgressors"  because  he  obeys  a 
higher  law.  It  can  define  conventional  morality, 
but  it  cannot  follow  those  generous  spirits  who 
pass  beyond  these  limits  in  their  search  for  "  the 
unimagined  good  of  man."  It  is  baffled  by  that 
spiritual  unrest  which  characterizes  the  more  ardent 
lover  of  righteousness  when  "  for  new  heavens  he 


226     THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

spurneth  the  old."  It  is  dreary  business  raking 
over  the  embers  of  old  camp-fires.  Those  whom 
we  seek  to  know  are  now  lighting  new  camp- 
fires  on  the  distant  hills. 

A  lover  of  the  mountains  and  the  woods  writes : 
"  A  curious  distinction  made  itself  evident :  that 
between  riding  through  a  country  with  the  sole 
object  of  getting  somewhere,  and  surveying  a 
mathematically  straight  line." 

Perhaps  we  may  make  a  compromise  with  the 
believers  in  scientific  ethics.  There  is  work  for 
the  moral  surveyor.  An  accurate  survey  of  exist- 
ing conditions  is  most  desirable.  But  whether 
these  conditions  are  to  be  improved  the  survey 
cannot  determine.  That  depends  upon  the  hidden 
powers  of  the  will. 

The  great  pathfinder  is  the  man  who  is  impelled 
by  a  mighty  desire  to  go  somewhere,  and  who  has 
the  skill  and  courage  to  find  or  make  a  way.  He 
dares  to  go  where  other  men  have  not  trod.  His 
well-trained  eye  discovers  the  distant  mountain 
pass,  and  he  declares  it  to  be  practicable,  when 
other  men  see  only  an  insuperable  barrier.  He 
does  not  follow  a  mathematically  straight  line, 
determined  by  instruments  of  precision.  He  does 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS     227 

not  even  know,  beforehand,  what  he  shall  find. 
But  by  his  efforts  new  regions  are  discovered, 
which  other  men  may,  in  time,  survey. 

To  ethics  conceived  of  as  a  knowledge  of  the 
way  in  which  deeds  of  daring  rectitude  are  done, 
the  most  natural  approach  is  not  through  Science 
but  through  Poetry.  The  best  life  is  not  one  that 
conforms  to  a  rule,  but  one  that  is  drawn  towards 
an  unseen  goal  by  an  unconquerable  desire.  It  is 
faint  praise  to  say  of  any  one  that  he  did  as  well 
as  might  be  expected  under  the  circumstances. 
Our  hero  must  surprise  us  by  doing  something 
more  than  could  have  been  expected.  We  refuse 
to  allow  the  circumstances  to  be  presented  as  a 
sufficient  explanation  of  his  act 

To  a  person  of  prosaic  temper  the  moral  life 
is  like  a  ride  in  a  taxicab.  It  is  so  much  for  so 
much.  The  intelligent  passenger  can  at  any  mo- 
ment look  up  and  see  his  progress  registered  with 
automatic  precision.  At  first  it  is  a  pleasure  to 
see  how  rapidly  he  is  getting  on;  but  after  a  time 
he  observes  that  his  progress  is  registered  in  dol- 
lars and  cents.  Then  he  prudently  remembers 
that  he  has  no  call  to  go  further. 

There  is  a  point  where  prudential  considera- 


228     THE   ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

tions  call  a  halt  on  moral  idealism.  This  in  any 
community  can  be  determined  with  scientific 
precision.  Those  who  talk  of  "economic  deter- 
minism "  have  this  in  mind.  Every  man's  moral 
standards,  they  say,  are  determined  by  the  way 
he  gets  his  living.  He  is  as  good  as  he  can  afford 
to  be  in  his  line  of  business.  Determine  accu- 
rately the  conditions  of  his  bread- winning  occupa- 
tion, and  you  will  know  how  far  he  is  likely  to 
carry  the  Ten  Commandments  or  the  Golden 
Rule. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  all  this  and  the 
rule  works  out  pretty  well  when  we  are  dealing 
with  large  averages.  The  doctrine  was  long  ago 
stated  by  a  shrewd  observer  who  had  been  "  going 
to  and  fro  in  the  earth  and  walking  up  and  down 
in  it."  A  man's  character  and  conduct,  he  declared, 
are  governed  by  his  economic  condition.  Take 
one  who  is  most  affluent  and  exemplary  and  see 
what  will  happen  to  him  when  you  take  away 
his  property.  "  Put  forth  thine  hand  upon  him 
and  touch  all  that  he  hath  and  he  will  curse  thee 
to  thy  face." 

It  must  be  confessed  that  in  the  experiment 
which  was  Ipng  ago  recorded,  this  prognostication 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS    229 

was  largely  verified,  at  least  in  the  judgment  of 
three  respectable  gentlemen.  When  they  came 
to  visit  Job  they  were  shocked  to  discover  that 
he  did  not  seem  to  be  nearly  so  good  a  man  as 
he  was  when  he  had  seven  thousand  sheep  and 
five  hundred  yoke  of  oxen  and  five  hundred  asses 
and  a  very  great  household.  Then  they  had 
found  in  him  little  to  criticise,  but  now  he  had 
fallen  into  bad  ways  and  talked  very  much  like 
an  anarchist. 

"  I  think  I  could  be  a  good  woman  if  I  had 
five  thousand  a  year,"  said  Becky  Sharp.  And  all 
Vanity  Fair  would  agree  with  her;  that  is,  she 
could  be  a  pretty  good  woman  on  that  income, 
though  of  course  not  so  good  as  if  she  had  ten 
thousand  a  year.  There  are  some  virtues  that 
come  high. 

Social  reformers  find  in  the  doctrine  of  eco- 
nomic determinism  a  powerful  argument.  People 
in  general,  they  say,  are  as  honest  and  generous 
as  Society  will  allow  them  to  be.  It  is  useless  to 
appeal  to  them  to  improve  their  characters.  Im- 
prove their  condition,  and  their  characters  will 
take  care  of  themselves. 

This  is  excellent  as  an  argumentum  ad  homi' 


230    THE   ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

nem,  addressed  to  the  good  people  who  are  trying 
to  save  souls  while  oblivious  of  the  conditions 
under  which  people  live.  But  it  fails  when  ad- 
dressed to  those  who  are  the  victims  of  injustice. 
Victims  they  are,  but  is  it  true  that  they  cannot 
help  themselves "?  If  so,  there  is  nothing  to  appeal 
to  against  the  malign  fatalistic  influence  that  holds 
them  down.  If  men  cannot  be  better  than  the 
conditions  under  which  they  live,  then  how  are 
these  conditions  to  be  bettered  ?  Must  the  masses 
wait  till  the  privileged  classes  come  to  their  res- 
cue ?  That  were  a  vain  hope  if  the  possession  of 
privilege  condemns  those  classes  to  the  narrow 
views  and  selfish  aims  which  are  an  inseparable 
part  of  the  system. 

Fortunately,  the  Social  Reformer  treats  himself 
as  an  exception  to  the  general  law.  He  theoreti- 
cally reduces  ethics  to  an  inferior  branch  of  eco- 
nomics, but  he  practically  restores  it  to  its  inde- 
pendence when  he  begins  actively  to  engage  in 
economic  reform.  He  does  all  sorts  of  unpopular 
and  disagreeable  things,  and  not  a  penny  does  he 
get  out  of  it.  He  defies  the  opinion  of  his  own 
class,  and  goes  on  his  way  as  if  it  were  not  of  the 
slightest  consequence  which  side  his  bread  was 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS     231 

buttered  on.  He  does  n't  wait  for  Society  to  im- 
prove him,  so  intent  is  he  on  his  plans  for  im- 
proving Society.  When  you  tell  him  that  he 
ought  to  sit  down  quietly  and  wait  till  the  times 
are  ripe  for  the  measures  he  sees  to  be  desirable, 
he  turns  upon  you  savagely — "What  do  you 
take  me  for!" 

It  appears,  then,  that  there  are  exceptions  to 
the  law  that  men  first  ask,  Does  it  pay  ?  and  then 
argue  that  if  it  does  it  must  be  right.  There  are 
those  who  find  it  possible  to  move  in  opposition 
to  their  own  personal  interests.  With  them  the 
moral  flag  does  not  always  follow  Trade.  These 
persons  may  be  exceptions,  but  it  is  in  these  ex- 
ceptions that  the  ethical  inquirer  is  interested.  It 
is  more  exciting  to  watch  a  ship  beating  against 
the  wind  than  to  see  a  log  floating  with  the  cur- 
rent. 

When  we  come  to  think  about  it  we  see  that 
all  that  is  determined  beforehand  is  the  point  up 
to  which  a  person  may  be  righteous  in  safety  and 
comfort.  If  he  wants  to  go  further  he  must  take 
his  chances.  A  man  who  wishes  to  cultivate  cour- 
age and  not  get  hurt  should  wait  till  the  battle  is 
over.  Otherwise  he  may  never  be  able  to  enjoy 


232     THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

the  contemplation  of  his  own  virtue.  But  it  may- 
be that  he  is  not  that  kind  of  man. 

Fortunately  there  are  always  those  who  like  to 
take  chances  and  who  do  not  care  over-much  for 
being  comfortable.  They  have  a  love  of  adven- 
ture. To  them  life  is  not  like  riding  in  a  taxicab 
with  their  eyes  upon  the  fare  indicator.  They  are 
of  vigorous  habit  and  prefer  to  go  afoot.  They 
push  on  in  all  weathers  and  take  cheerfully  the 
haps  and  mishaps  of  the  road.  They  feel  a  whole- 
some curiosity  about  the  way,  but  are  not  de- 
pressed when  they  do  not  know  how  they  are 
coming  out. 

Such  persons  are  anxious  to  do  something  that 
is  not  too  easy.  They  like  to  have  every  faculty 
tasked  to  the  utmost.  They  would  climb  a  moun- 
tain that  has  never  been  climbed  before,  they 
long  to  discover  new  lands  and  to  try  their  sails 
in  storms.  When  men  of  such  temper  turn  to 
intellectual  pursuits  something  happens.  For  their 
interests  are  on  the  outer  edge  of  things.  They 
go  pioneering  into  new  regions  of  thought.  They 
are  not  acquisitive  scholars  but  inquisitive  inves- 
tigators. They  leave  the  ninety  and  nine  proved 
Truths,  to  follow  a  Perhaps  through  a  wilder- 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS    233 

ness  of  doubts.  They  enjoy  the  uncertainties  of 
the  pursuit,  and  each  achievement  is  but  the 
starting-point  for  a  new  experiment.  All  this 
comes  not  from  a  restless  desire  for  novelty,  it  is 
but  the  overflow  of  energy. 

But  the  adventures  of  Doing  and  of  Knowing 
are  not  so  wonderful  as  the  adventures  of  Being. 
To  be  something  one  has  not  been  before  is  a 
greater  accomplishment  than  to  do  or  know  some- 
thing not  done  or  known  before.  For  any  crea- 
ture to  discover  new  heights  and  depths  in  his 
own  nature,  to  strike  out  new  paths  for  his  life 
forces  to  move  in,  to  gain  control  over  the  incal- 
culable store  of  energy  locked  up  within  himself 
and  to  use  that  energy  for  ends  which  he  himself 
freely  chooses,  this  from  the  standpoint  of  the 
naturalist  is  impossible. 

But  what  strict  logic  starting  with  Natural 
Law  declares  to  be  impossible,  that  the  moral 
impulse  in  man  attempts  with  inconceivable 
audacity;  human  nature  rebels  against  itself  and 
proceeds  to  make  itself  over.  Very  early  in  the 
history  of  our  race  this  inconceivable  adventure 
began.  We  see  rude  tribes  without  arts  or  letters ; 
they  are  polygamists,  and  fighters,  accustomed 


234    THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

to  tyranny,  a  prey  to  all  manner  of  superstitions, 
and  moved  by  appetite  and  passion.  Yet  out  of 
the  mass  a  man  arises  and  says,  "  I  will  no  longer 
be  what  my  companions  are  and  what  I  have  been. 
I  will  no  longer  worship  brute  force,  nor  yield  to 
passions  that  like  great  winds  have  borne  me 
along  hitherto.  I  will  be  chaste  and  just  and  gen- 
erous. I  will  not  obey  the  powers  whose  might 
I  see.  I  will  yield  myself  to  a  Power  I  see  not, 
but  which  shall  give  me  at  last  my  heart's  desire. 
If  all  the  world  be  against  me,  I  will  resist  it  till 
I  overcome.  I,  the  new  creature,  will  do  this, 
through  the  power  of  the  Unseen  and  Eternal." 

The  audacity  of  the  declaration  of  moral  inde- 
pendence is  seen  whenever  we  follow  the  anthro- 
pologist in  his  investigations  of  the  habits  and 
environment  of  the  men  who  first  made  it.  The 
words  which  express  the  familiar  virtues — Tem- 
perance, Purity,  Justice,  Friendship,  and  the  like 
—  were  daring  paradoxes  flung  into  the  very 
teeth  of  Fact.  They  expressed  what  barbarians 
saw  when,  slowly  emerging,  they  looked  upward. 
They  told  of  what  ought  to  be,  and  was  not. 
Some  day,  they  said,  we  shall  become  what  now 
is  but  a  dream  of  perfection.  Toward  this  perfec- 


I 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS    235 

tion  we  will  strive,  lest  we  slip  back  into  the 
brute. 

This  struggle  of  an  imperfect  creature  to  per- 
fect himself  forms  the  Romance  of  Ethics.  Com- 
monplace moralists  and  commonplace  scientists 
may  treat  the  growth  of  moral  ideals  as  a  part  of 
Natural  History.  But  a  man  like  Huxley,  who 
took  both  Natural  Law  and  Moral  Law  seriously, 
could  not  be  satisfied  with  any  such  treatment, 
which  would  lead  only  to  the  conclusion  of  a 
pseudo-optimism,  that  "  whatever  is  is  right." 

This  is  a  dreary  conclusion,  and  a  travesty  of 
Faith.  It  is  a  way  of  saying  that  all  the  ills  from 
which  men  suffer  are  irremediable,  and  that  we 
might  as  well  pretend  that  we  like  them.  The 
contention  of  Ethics  is  that  much  that  is  is  wrong, 
and  that  it  is  our  privilege  to  make  it  right,  and 
tlie  sooner  we  go  about  our  work  the  better. 

Leave  out  the  element  of  "  huge,  heroic  mag- 
nanimity," and  History  ceases  to  interest  us.  It 
becomes  only  an  insipid  narrative  of  prearranged 
events.  We  do  not  care  for  it  until  we  see  heroes 
struggling  with  circumstances. 

Why,  we  ask,  does  not  some  one  give  us  a 
book  of  Ethics  from  the  point  of  view  of  heroic 


12^6     THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

youth?  In  such  a  book  we  should  see  Duty 
through  the  shimmering  haze  of  romantic  ex- 
pectation. It  is  a  noble  hazard.  It  appeals  to  the 
native  chivalry  of  the  uncorrupted  soul.  Here  is 
something  to  be  done  worthy  of  your  powers. 
Will  you  do  it?  Ethics  should  be  the  story  of 
the  way  the  call  is  answered.  It  should  make  us 
see  each  power  of  the  man  sallying  forth  to  meet 
its  adversary.  We  would  have,  not  an  analysis  of 
the  virtues,  but  an  account  of  the  way  in  which 
they  comport  themselves  in  action. 

It  happens  that  a  man  of  genius  did  the  very 
thing  we  are  asking  for  long  before  we  were  born. 
In  an  age  when  the  wonders  of  the  new  world 
were  being  opened  up  and  men's  hearts  were 
stirred  by  the  discoveries,  it  occurred  to  "  the  sage 
and  serious  Spenser"  to  write  a  Romance  of  Ethics. 

Addressing  Queen  Elizabeth,  he  tells  how  — 

Daily  through  hardy  enterprize 
Many  great  regions  are  discovered 
Which  to  late  age  were  never  mentioned. 
Who  ever  heard  of  the  Indian  Peru  ? 
Or  who  in  venturous  vessell  measured 
The  Amazon's  huge  river  now  found  trcw  ? 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS    237 

Or  fruitfullest  Virginia  who  did  ever  vcw  ? 

Yet  all  these  were  when  no  man  did  them  know. 

In  the  "  Faerie  Queene  "  Spenser  pictured  the 
moral  life  as  it  appeared  to  the  gallant  gentlemen 
of  his  day  who  were  anxious  to  know  how  much 
they  might  make  of  themselves.  Instead  of  attend- 
ing a  lecture  on  the  Scientific  Basis  of  Morals,  let 
us  sit  down  in  their  company,  and  consider  what  is 
meant  by  virtue.  We  may  take  our  place  with 
the  "  right  noble  and  valorous  Sir  Walter  Raleigh, 
Knight,"  to  whom  is  given  an  explanation  of  the 
whole  intention  of  the  discourse,  which  is  "an 
allegory  or  continued  darke  conceit."  The  gen- 
eral end  "  is  to  fashion  a  gentleman  or  noble  per- 
son in  virtuous  and  gentle  disposition." 

We  may  therefore  dismiss  from  our  minds  all 
questions  of  profit  and  loss  or  careful  considera- 
tion of  wages.  The  noble  person  we  have  in  mind 
is  not  moved  by  such  considerations.  He  has  an 
ambition  to  become  all  that  a  man  should  be,  and 
he  is  willing  to  pay  the  cost. 

As  the  central  figure  in  the  allegory  we  will  take 
Prince  Arthur,  "in  whom  is  sette  forth  Magni- 
ficence in  particular  which  virtue  is  the  perfec- 
tion of  all  the  rest  and  containeth  in  it  them  all." 


238     THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

This  is  a  virtue  that  has  often  been  overlooked 
by  those  who  have  the  care  of  youth.  They  make 
much  of  prohibitions,  and  not  enough  of  noble 
incitements.  They  do  not  picture  the  good  life 
as  a  magnificent  achievement  calling  into  play 
all  virile  powers. 

But  while  Virtue  is  one  it  manifests  itself  in 
various  ways.  There  is  more  than  one  kind  of 
goodness  as  there  is  more  than  one  kind  of  evil. 
In  the  soul  of  man  are  diverse  powers,  each  called 
into  action  by  a  new  emergency.  Let  us  then 
think  of  the  several  virtues  as  brave  knights  go- 
ing each  upon  a  quest  of  his  own,  yet  uniting  at 
last  in  Arthur's  court. 

As  each  goes  forth,  he  cannot  see  what  will 
befall  him,  but  he  is  content  to  venture.  We  shall 
see  how  they  bear  themselves  as  they  ride  forth 
wondering  but  unafraid.  Of  course  we  must  ex- 
pect no  such  well-connected  story  as  is  told  by 
those  who  deal  with  accomplished  facts.  "  For  an 
historiographer  discourseth  of  affaires  orderly  as 
they  were  donne,  accounting  as  well  the  times  as 
the  actions ;  but  a  poet  thrusteth  into  the  mid- 
dest  even  where  it  most  concerneth  him,  and 
there  recoursing  to  things  past,  and  divining  of 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS    239 

things  to  come,  maketh  a  pleasing  analysis  of 
all." 

That  this  analysis  is  not  to  be  scientific  goes 
without  saying.  It  will  be  enough  if  we  see  the 
behavior  of  virtues  like  Holiness  and  Temper- 
ance, Chastity  and  Friendship  and  Justice  when 
they  get  into  difficulties.  We  thank  the  author 
for  taking  us  into  his  confidence  as  he  concludes 
courteously,  "  Thus  much,  sir,  I  have  briefly  over- 
ronne,  to  direct  your  understanding  to  the  wel- 
head  of  the  history,  that  from  thence  gathering 
the  whole  intention  of  the  conceit  ye  may,  as 
in  a  handfull,  gripe  all  the  discourse  which  other- 
wise may  happily  seeme  tedious  and  confused." 

Let  us  begin  with  Holiness;  the  ardent  desire 
for  spiritual  perfection,  the  human  capacity  for 
worship  and  self-denial.  What  is  Holiness  like? 
How  shall  we  picture  it  to  the  imagination?  It 
is,  we  say,  a  meek  virtue.  It  is  like  a  gray-bearded 
palmer,  with  downcast  eyes,  going  along  the  way 
to  his  holy  shrine,  heedless  of  the  world,  and  by 
the  world  unheeded.  We  fear  that  this  virtue 
will  not  appeal  to  these  gentlemen  who  had  been 
doing  so  many  magnificent  things. 

We   turn  to  the  first  book  of  the  "Faerie 


240    THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

Queene  "  and  read  of  the  Red  Crosse  Knight,  or 
Holiness. 

A  gentle  knight  was  pricking  on  the  plaine 
Ycladd  in  mightie  armes  and  silver  shielde 
Wherein  old  dints  of  deepe  woundes  did  remaine. 
The  cniell  markes  of  many  a  bloody  fieldc. 


Full  jolly  knight  he  seemed  and  faire  did  sitt 

As  one  for  knightly  giusts  and  fierce  encounters  fitt. 

Upon  a  great  adventure  he  was  bond. 

Perhaps  this  might  be  enough  of  the  "Faerie 
Queene  "  for  one  day.  It  would  be  of  little  use  to 
go  further  unless  we  come  to  an  agreement  with 
the  author  in  regard  to  the  nature  of  Holiness. 

When  we  consider  the  spiritual  history  of  man 
we  will  come  to  see  that  Holiness  could  not  have 
survived  in  the  struggle  for  existence  if  it  had  not 
been  stronger  than  we  had  thought.  It  was  out  of 
the  welter  of  sensual  propensities  that  the  aspira- 
tions and  the  reverences  of  men  have  emerged. 
It  is  only  as  Humanity  has  grown  strong  and 
self-assertive  that  it  has  rebelled  successfully 
against  the  tyranny  of  the  senses  and  declared  its 
allegiance  to  a  spiritual  power.  What  "  old  dints 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS     241 

of  deepe  woundes"  remain !  How  fierce  the  strug- 
gle has  been !  What  we  call  the  higher  life  has  lifted 
itself  above  the  brutal  impulses  which  once  bore 
rule.  No  wonder  that  Holiness  bears  himself  like 
a  valiant  gentleman. 

But  Holiness  does  not  ride  alone. 
A  lovely  ladie  rode  him  faire  beside. 

This  was  Una,  the  Lady  Truth.  We  see  Holi- 
ness and  Truth  riding  together  into  the  mysteri- 
ous forest — 

Foorthe  they  passe  with  pleasure  forward  led 
Joying  to  heare  the  birdes  sweete  harmony. 

What  happens  next?  That  happens  in  Faerie- 
land  which  happens  here  to  our  constant  bewil- 
derment. Holiness  and  Truth  go  forth  together  on 
untried  ways;  and  they  get  lost.  Led  with  delight 
they  miss  the  way. 

They  cannot  findc  that  path,  which  first  was  showne 
But  wander  too  and  fro  in  waies  unknowne. 

So  many  paths,  so  many  turnings  scene 

That  which  of  them  to  take,  in  diverse  doubt  they  been. 

They  meet  with  Error  in  the  form  of  a  dragon, 
and  Holiness  in  the  love  of  Truth  slays  it.  This 
is  not  a  hard  task,  for  the  knight  is  expecting 


242     THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

Error  to  appear  in  just  such  monstrous  forms. 
But  soon  Error  appears  in  the  form  of  an  aged 
man,  sober  "and  very  sagely  sad,"  who  brings 
them  to  a  place  that  seems  to  be  the  abode  of 
simple  piety. 

A  little  lowly  hermitage  it  was 
Downe  in  a  dale,  hard  by  the  forest's  side. 
Far  from  resort  of  people  who  did  pas 
In  traveil  to  and  froe;  a  little  wyde 
There  was  a  holy  chappell  edifydc 
Wherein  the  hermite  dewly  wont  to  say 
His  holy  thinges  each  morne  and  evcn-tydc. 

They  rest  unsuspectingly  in  the  hermitage.  At 
midnight  the  old  hermit 

to  his  studie  goes,  and  there  amiddes 
His  magick  bookes  and  artes  of  sundrie  kindes 
He  seekes  out  mighty  charmes  to  trouble  sleepy  minds. 

Under  the  influence  of  superstition  Holiness 
comes  to  believe  that  Truth  is  unfaithful,  and 
flees  from  her. 

The  guilefull  great  enchaimter  parts 
The  Red  Crosse  knight  and  Truth, 

Unto  whose  stead  faire  Falshood  steps 
And  workes  him  woefiill  ruth. 

It  is  a  story  familiar  to  all  who  have  tried  to 


THE  ROMANCE   OF  ETHICS     243 

follow  the  history  of  religion.  We  follow  the 
Red  Cross  Knight  into  the  House  of  Pride,  with 
"its  faire  windows  and  delightful  bowers"  and  its 
doleful  dungeons  underneath.  We  see  him  yield- 
ing to  the  blandishments  of  the  false  Duessa,  who 
masquerades  as  Fidessa,  or  the  Faith.  The  knight 
wanders  far  and  at  last  falls  into  captivity  to  the 
giant  of  spiritual  arrogance.  But  all  the  time  we 
feel  that  there  are  helpers  seeking  him  through 
the  forest  glades. 

Truth  shall  at  last  find  Holiness  and  restore 
him  to  the  light  of  day.  But  she  first  must  win 
strength.  The  Truth  that  is  to  win  back  Holiness 
must  be  the  truth  of  action  and  not  the  truth  of 
tender  reverie.  Una  finds  Prince  Arthur  the  em- 
bodiment of  magnificent  action,  and  together 
they  seek  the  captive. 

When,  after  having  slain  the  gaint,  they  reach 
the  castle,  they  find  the  Old  Warder  Ignorance 
in  charge. 

At  last  with  creeping,  crooked  pace  forth  came 
An  old  old  man  with  beard  as  white  as  snow. 
That  on  a  stafFe  his  feeble  steps  did  frame 
And  guyde  his  wearie  gate  both  too  and  fro. 
For  his  eye-sight  him  fayled  long  ygo. 


244    THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

And  on  his  annes  a  bunch  of  kcyes  he  bore 

The  which  unused  rust  did  overgrow : 

These  were  the  keyes  of  every  inner  doore 

But  he  could  not  them  use,  but  kept  them  yet  in  store. 

His  reverend  haires  and  holy  gravitee 
The  knight  much  honored  as  beseemed  well 
And  gently  askt  where  all  the  people  bee 
Which  in  that  stately  building  wont  to  dwell. 
Who  answered  him  full  soft.  He  could  not  telL 

Then  asked  he  which  way  he  in  might  pas 
He  could  not  tell,  againe  he  answered. 

Again  and  again  the  Prince  questioned  old 
Ignaro,  but  always  received  the  same  answer. 
The  giant  of  spiritual  pride  had  been  killed  in 
fair  fight,  but  pious  Ignorance  could  hardly  be 
disposed  of  in  this  violent  way.  At  last  the  Prince 
does  what  the  gentlemen  of  the  sixteenth  century 
did  under  the  same  circumstances ;  he  pushes  the 
old  guardian  of  the  place  aside. 

Then  to  him  stepping,  from  his  armes  did  take 
Those  keyes  and  made  himself  free  enterance. 

After  many  adventures  Truth  and  Holiness 
are  united.  They  come  into  the  true  House  of 
Holiness,  which  is  very  different  from  the  House 
of  Spiritual  Pride. 


THE   ROMANCE   OF  ETHICS     245 

This  is  indeed  not  the  end,  for  in  the  Romance 
of  Ethics  there  is  no  end.  Not  once  but  many- 
times  must  the  Red  Cross  Knight  be  separated 
from  Una.  Each  advance  in  knowledge  must 
bring  a  fresh  bewilderment  to  the  spiritual  na- 
ture of  man.  Even  in  the  hour  of  reunion,  when 
"  swimming  in  that  sea  of  blissful  joy,"  there  come 
suggestions  of  a  new  quest  with  its  partings  and 
wanderings.  But  this  is  enough  for  one  book. 

Now  strike  your  sailes,  yee  jolly  mariners 

For  we  be  come  unto  a  quiet  rode,  ; 

Where  we  must  land  some  of  our  passengers,  *. 

And  light  this  weary  vessell  of  her  lode.  ■' 


On  the  long  voyage,  and  then  againe  abroad. 

If  a  committee  of  good  women  were  looking 
for  a  new  text-book  on  Temperance  for  use  in  the 
Public  Schools,  they  might  be  disappointed  in  the 
treatment  of  the  subject  in  the  second  book  of 
the  "  Faerie  Queene,"  Sir  Guyon,  or  Temperance. 
Indeed,  Temperance  had  not  then  been  confined 
to  the  conscientious  disuse  of  alcoholic  beverages. 
It  was  a  virtue  of  very  wide  application. 

But  I  should  not  regard  any  one  as  a  fit  teacher 
of  youth  who  is  not  able  to  grasp  Spenser's  main 


246     THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

intent  and  to  sympathize  with  it.  He  represents 
Temperance  not  as  a  kind  of  weakness  to  be  pro- 
tected, but  as  a  kind  of  strength  to  be  exercised. 
This  is  a  point  of  view  which  we  sometimes  miss. 
In  our  solicitude  for  the  weak  whom  we  would 
shield  from  temptation,  we  forget  the  needs  of 
those  who  are  naturally  strong,  and  in  whom 
should  be  kindled  an  admiration  for  one  of  the 
manliest  of  the  virtues. 

Sir  Guyon  is  no  weakling.  He  appears  "all 
armed  in  hamesse  meete."  His  way  leads  him 
by  the  Idle  Lake,  through  the  House  of  Mam- 
mon and  the  Bower  of  Blisse.  He  sees  the  Gulfe 
of  Greedinesse  and  the  Quicksands  of  Un- 
thriftyhed  and  the  Whirlpoole  of  Decay.  He  sails 
on  wide  waters  wherein  are  the  Wandering  Is- 
lands. He  is  tempted  by  soft  voices  and  "faire 
eyes  sweet  smyling  in  delight."  He  hears  songs 
fitted  to  "  allure  frail  mind  to  careless  ease."  Even 
Scripture  is  turned  against  him,  and  the  temptress 
bids  him  consider 

The  lilly,  lady  of  the  flowring  field. 

Consider  how  sumptuously  she  lives  with  "  the 
flowre  deluce  her  lovely  paramoure." 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS    247 

Yet  neither  spinnes  nor  cards,  ne  cares  nor  fretts. 
But  to  her  mother  Nature  all  her  care  she  letts. 

Why  should  he  go  on  "  seeking  for  daunger 
and  adventures  vaine  *?  " 

SirGuyon,  being  no  paragon  but  only  a  knight- 
errant,  sometimes  forgets  himself.  But  when  he 
remembers  what  he  is  and  whither  he  is  bent,  he 
overcomes  temptation.  Temperance,  it  appears, 
is  a  form  of  personal  liberty.  It  is  the  determina- 
tion of  a  strong  man  to  be  himself  and  to  go 
about  his  own  business.  The  Bower  of  Blisse 
may  have  its  attractions,  but  they  must  not  keep 
him  from  his  quest. 

Much  wondred  Guyon  at  the  fayre  aspect 
Of  that  sweet  place,  yet  suffred  no  delight 
To  sincke  into  his  sense,  nor  mind  affect. 
But  passed  forth  and  lookt  still  forward  right, 
Brydling  his  will,  and  maystering  his  might. 

It  were  well  to  have  every  boy  taught  to  think 
of  Temperance  as  something  more  than  a  series 
of  prohibitions.  It  is  the  effort  of  a  strong  man  to 
master  his  might. 

If  the  believer  in  romantic  ethics  has  the  pa- 
tience to  read  on  to  the  fifth  book,  or  the  wit  to 
skip  to  it,  he  will  find  something  to  his  advantage. 


248     THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

There  he  will  find  Sir  Artegall,  or  Justice.  It  is 
not  Justice  in  judicial  robes  weighing  the  spent 
deeds  of  wrong.  Justice  fully  armed  rides  forth 
into  the  world  resolved  to  prevent  crimes  against 
weakness.  What  weakness  needs  is  strength. 
With  Justice  goes  Talus,  or  Power,  to  execute 
his  will. 

His  name  was  Talus,  made  of  yron  mould. 

Immoveable,  resistlesse,  without  end. 

Who  in  his  hand  an  yron  flale  did  hould 

With  which  he  thresht  out  falshood  and  did  truth  unfould. 

Sir  Artegall,  "  who  now  to  perils  great  for  jus- 
tice sake  proceedes,"  is  no  sentimentalist.  Justice 
is  not  merely  something  to  be  proclaimed.  It  is 
something  to  be  done  in  the  face  of  opposition. 

Whoso  unto  himselfe  will  take  the  skill 

True  justice  unto  people  to  divide 

Had  need  have  mightie  hands  for  to  fulfill 

That  which  he  doth  with  righteous  doome  decide. 

And  for  to  maister  wrong  and  puissant  pride. 

For  vaine  it  is  to  deeme  of  things  aright 

And  makes  wrong  doers  justice  to  deride 

Unlesse  it  be  performed  with  dreadlesse  might. 

For  powre  is  the  right  hand  of  Justice,  truly  hight. 

Sir  Artegall  has  no  easy  path.  It  is  more  diffi- 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS     249 

cult  to  prevent  wrongdoing  than  to  punish,  and 
there  is  no  help  from  precedent  Wrong  takes  so 
many  different  forms. 

Sir  Artegall  attacks  Special  Privilege.  A  cruel 
Pagan  had  built  his  castle  by  a  bridge  across 
which  all  people  who  did  business  must  go,  and 
all  who  passed  that  way  must  pay  him  tribute. 
Sir  Artegall  declared  that  there  could  be  no  pri- 
vate ownership  of  what  was  by  right  a  public 
way.  In  the  battle  that  followed  the  Pagan  was 
slain,  the  castle  razed,  and  the  evil-gotten  goods 
"  scrapt  by  hooke  and  crooke  "  destroyed. 

Sir  Artegall  undid  the  evill  fashion. 

And  wicked  customes  of  that  bridge  refourmed: 

Which  done  unto  his  former  journey  he  retoumed. 

But  he  had  not  gone  far  when  he  saw  a  mighty 
giant  standing  on  a  rock  with  a  huge  pair  of  bal- 
ances in  his  hand.  Around  him  flocked  an  admir- 
ing multitude.  The  giant  was  telling  them  that 
there  were  no  longer  any  superiorities,  and  that 
by  his  balances  he  could  make  things  weigh 
whatever  he  wished  them  to  weigh. 

Special  Privilege  had  been  destroyed,  now 
Justice  must  contend  against  the  unbalanced 
enthusiasm  of  the  mob.  Here  was  new  work  for 


250    THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

the  sword  of  Artegall  and  the  iron  flail  of  Talus. 
On  days  when  there  were  no  great  public  wrongs 
to  be  righted,  there  were  many  private  wrongs 
requiring  his  attention.  Doing  justice  is  in  a  world 
like  this  a  continuous  performance.  A  knight- 
errant  of  less  tough  fibre  would  have  become 
querulous  when  he  perceived  that  his  work  was 
never  completed.  But  Sir  Artegall  had  learned  to 
fight  his  battles  one  at  a  time.  So  as  night  came 
on  he  would  let  others  do  the  worrying. 

But  Artegall  himselfe  to  rest  did  dight 

That  he  mote  fresher  be  against  the  next  day*s  fight. 

It  is  this  impression  of  resilient  energy  which 
comes  as  we  watch  the  adventurers  in  Faerieland. 
Each  is  intent  upon  his  quest  and  not  depressed 
at  its  continually  changing  difficulties.  Sir  Cali- 
dore,  or  Courtesy,  as  he  sets  out,  meets  Sir  Arte- 
gall, who  is  returning. 

Where  ye  ended  have  there  I  begin 

To  tread  an  endlesse  trace,  withouten  guydc. 

Or  good  direction  how  to  enter  in. 

Or  how  to  issue  forth  in  waies  untryde. 

In  perils  strange,  in  labours  long  and  wide. 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS    251 

What  is  that  quest,  quoth  then  Sir  Artegall, 
That  you  unto  such  perils  presently  doth  call  ? 
The  Blattant  Beast,  quoth  he,  I  doe  pursew 
And  through  the  world  incessantly  doe  chase 
Till  him  I  overtake  or  else  subdew : 
Yet  know  I  not  or  how  or  in  what  place. 
To  find  him  out,  yet  still  I  forward  trace. 

They  talk  together  in  the  forest  and  then  take 
courteous  leave. 

Now  God  you  speed,  quoth  then  Sir  Artegall, 
And  keepc  your  body  from  the  daunger  drad. 
For  ye  have  much  adoe  to  deale  withall. 

"  There  is  no  book,"  said  Landor,  "  so  delight- 
ful to  read  in  or  so  tedious  to  read  through  as  the 
'  Faerie  Queene.' "  In  this  it  is  like  that  History 
of  the  Moral  Struggle  of  Man,  of  which  it  is  an 
"  allegory  or  darke  conceit."  What  is  more  im- 
possible to  read  through  than  the  story  of  the  way 
in  which  our  ethical  ideals  have  struggled  for  ex- 
istence during  all  the  ages  past  ?  One  moral  issue 
succeeds  another  and  then  is  lost  sight  of  in  the 
moment  of  its  victory.  We  lose  our  way  among 
the  numberless  details. 

But  how  delightful  it  is  to  read  in !  Wherever 
we  dip  into  the  story,  in  whatever  century  or 


252     THE  ROMANCE  OF  ETHICS 

land,  we  see  some  hero  fighting  against  great 
odds  for  an  idea.  Each  age  flings  its  challenge  at 
the  feet  of  its  valiant  youth.  And  in  each  genera- 
tion valiant  youth  takes  up  the  challenge,  and 
the  moral  life  of  the  world  is  renewed. 

The  experience  of  all  the  yesterdays  cannot 
enable  us  to  determine  the  issue  of  to-day's  con- 
flict. We  must  await  the  event.  With  the  com- 
ing of  new  ways  of  thought  the  Red  Cross  Knight 
and  Una  are  again  separated.  The  lover  of  spir- 
itual beauty  is  estranged  from  simple  truth. 
Where  may  the  reconciliation  be  found  ?  Will 
our  Sir  Artegall  be  strong  enough  to  clear  the 
way  of  all  who  have  built  strongholds  across  the 
public  road  and  who  take  toll  of  every  passer- 
by? How  goes  it  with  Sir  Calidore  as  he  chases 
the  Blatant  Beast  of  vulgar  manners  and  brutish 
desires  ? 

There  is  the  same  romantic  uncertainty  as  to 
what  may  happen,  and  the  same  confidence  in 
the  powers  that  are  engaged,  as  when  the  adven- 
tures began. 

We  read  again,  — 

The  noble  heart  that  harbours  virtuous  thought 
And  is  with  child  of  glorious  great  intent 


THE  ROMANCE   OF  ETHICS     253 

Can  never  rest  until  it  forth  hath  brought 
The  etemall  brood  of  glorie  excellent. 
Such  restlesse  passion  did  all  night  torment 
The  flaming  corage  of  that  Faery  knight. 

After  all,  what  matter  the  mere  happenings  "in 
this  adventures  chauncefuU  jeopardie"?  What- 
ever happens  the  restless  passion  for  perfection, 
the  flaming  courage,  the  glorious  great  intent 
remain.  These  bring  forth  the  eternal  brood  of 
glory  excellent 


THE  MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION 


"TT  takes  a  newspaper  man  to  get  it  right,"  he 
A  said,  handing  me  the  programme  of  a  play 
given  by  an  undergraduate  fraternity,  and  a  no- 
tice of  the  same  in  the  morning  paper.  The  pro- 
gramme announced  the  play  as  "The  Merry 
Devil  of  Edmonton,"  while  the  newspaper  stated 
that  the  undergraduates  had  revived  the  old 
Elizabethan  comedy  of  "  The  Merry  Devil  of  Ed- 
ucation," once  attributed  to  Shakespeare. 

"  These  youngsters  make  the  most  absurd  mis- 
takes when  dealing  with  the  names  of  famous 
people.  Perhaps  some  of  them  have  never  heard 
of  me,  though  they  are  themselves  only  one  of 
my  pranks.  Shakespeare  was  just  the  man  to 
write  me  up." 

The  Merry  Devil  balanced  himself  on  the 
edge  of  my  desk  and  beamed  upon  me  benevo- 
lently. I  felt  that  I  had  known  him  all  my  life. 
There  was  nothing  of  the  Mephistopheles  about 
him.    The  twinkle  in  his  eye  was  evidence  that 


MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION    255 

he  had  never  been  disillusioned.  He  had  found 
it  good  to  be  alive.  He  seemed  to  be  the  incar- 
nation of  generations  of  incorrigible  truants  who 
were  saying  to  their  schoolmasters,  "  Educate  us 
if  you  can." 

"  I  hope  you  believe  in  Education,"  he  said. 

"  Yes, "  I  answered,  *'  I  have  always  been 
taught  to  think  highly  of  it." 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  Merry  Devil,  "  if  it  is  n't 
carried  too  far.  My  business  is  to  see  that  it  is  n't. 
By  the  way,  have  you  ever  listened  to  a  com- 
mencement address  on,  The  Whole  Duty  of  a 
Scholar  in  a  Democracy;  or  something  of  that 
sort?" 

I  replied  that  I  had  heard  a  number  of  such 
discourses,  and  that  they  impressed  me  as  con- 
taining sound  advice  for  youth. 

"Precisely  so.  Every  June  armies  of  young 
men  and  maidens  listen  to  such  advice  in  re- 
gard to  the  duty  they  owe  to  the  community, 
and  they  go  forth  resolved  to  practice  it.  I  sup- 
pose they  would  practice  it  if  they  knew  how." 

"But  I  thought  Education  meant  the  knowing 
how?" 

"Now,  you  might  think  so  if  you  hadn't  any 


256    MERRY   DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION 

experience  with  educated  people.  Let 's  see,  what 
is  it  that  a  liberal  education  does  for  one  who 
has  it  ?  It  enables  him  to  do  whatever  he  has  to 
do  'justly,  skillfully,  and  magnanimously.*  Why, 
if  all  your  educated  young  people  learned  to  act 
in  that  way  there  would  be  a  revolution  every 
year.  One  thoroughly  just  and  magnanimous  per- 
son can  upset  a  community,  if  he 's  skillful.  Just 
imagine  what  a  million  such  persons  would  do  if 
they  were  let  loose  on  the  world  at  the  same  time  ! 
I  don't  like  to  think  about  it." 

But  soon  the  countenance  of  the  Merry  Devil 
cleared  and  he  looked  up  with  a  sunny  smile. 

"Things  aren't  so  bad  as  they  might  be,  are 
they^  You  are  not  troubled  with  too  many  just 
and  magnanimous  young  people  down  your 
way  *?  You  have  to  thank  me  for  that.  It 's  not 
that  I  do  not  admire  high  scholarship.  I  like  to 
see  a  great  scholar  who  knows  his  place  and 
keeps  in  it.  I  read  an  article  in  one  of  the  maga- 
zines about  a  navy  yard  that  can  construct  the 
biggest  war  vessels,  but  the  authorities  had  for- 
gotten to  make  a  channel  deep  enough  for  them 
to  get  out.  That  is  the  way  it  ought  to  be.  I  like 
to  see  intellectual  Dreadnoughts  whose  draught 


MERRY   DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION     257 

does  not  allow  them  to  navigate  the  home  waters. 
They  give  the  public  a  respect  for  scholarship 
and  at  the  same  time  do  not  interfere  with  any 
practical  interests. 

"You  see  Pm  working  on  conservative  lines. 
All  that  Our  People  ask  is  to  be  let  alone.  We 
want  to  keep  things  about  as  they  are,  on  a  sound, 
healthy,  unintelligent  basis.  We  don't  believe  in 
removing  any  fine  old  abuse,  so  long  as  we  can 
get  anything  out  of  it.  A  lot  of  things  are  going 
on  for  no  other  reason  than  that  folks  don't  know 
any  better.  Now  I'm  an  optimist  and  believe 
that  whatever 's  good  for  me  is  the  best  possible 
thing  for  the  other  fellows  who  can't  help  them- 
selves. As  long  as  they  don't  know  any  better 
and  don't  try  to  help  themselves,  affairs  run 
smoothly.  The  minute  they  begin  to  use  their 
minds  they  make  trouble.  Haven't  you  ob- 
served the  number  of  'problems'  there  are  in 
these  days  ?  It 's  the  result  of  allowing  education 
to  go  too  far.  In  the  good  old  days  there  were  n't 
any  problems,  there  were  facts.  If  a  hundred 
people  died  of  a  typhoid  fever,  that  was  a  regret- 
table fact.  And  if  the  next  week  another  hun- 
dred died,  that  was  another  regrettable  fact.   But 


258     MERRY   DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION 

there  were  no  meddlesome  persons  who  made 
trouble  for  the  water  company.  I  tell  you  there 's 
too  much  recrimination  in  these  days.  There's 
a  way  of  educating  people  that  makes  them  un- 
charitable. When  things  go  wrong  they  are  likely 
to  blame  somebody. 

"  I  actually  heard  a  College  President  admit, 
in  public,  that  the  aim  of  his  institution  was  to 
stimulate  intellectual  curiosity.  Just  think  of  it ! 
If  he  had  said  that  the  aim  was  to  satisfy  intel- 
lectual curiosity,  that  would  have  been  all  right. 
Boys  will  be  boys,  and  college  is  as  good  a  place 
as  any  in  which  to  get  over  their  natural  inquisi- 
tiveness.  If  the  young  fellows  are  allowed  four 
years  in  which  to  sow  their  intellectual  wild  oats, 
they  can  then  settle  down  as  respectable  members 
of  society  and  do  no  more  thinking  than  other 
people  do. 

"But  to  deliberately  stimulate  intellectual 
curiosity !  That  would  be  like  sending  a  lot  of 
youngsters  with  lighted  candles  to  investigate  the 
methods  of  manufacture  in  a  powder  mill.  I 
don't  care  how  much  a  person  knows.  I  regard 
that  as  his  misfortune,  not  his  fault.  What  I  object 
to  is  that  he  should  want  to  know.  It  is  an  un- 


MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION     259 

comfortable  habit  of  mind.  The  man  who  wants 
to  know  is  never  satisfied  until  he  gets  at  the 
bottom  facts.  Now  the  bottom  facts  are  providen- 
tially placed  where  they  are  so  as  not  to  attract 
attention.  That's  where  they  belong,  and  they 
should  be  kept  there.  Our  People  don't  like  to 
have  unauthorized  persons  poking  about  and 
finding  out  things  that  ought  not  to  be  known. 

"  Some  of  the  ablest  men  of  my  acquaintance 
tell  me  that  intellectual  curiosity  is  ruining  the 
country.  Curiosity  makes  a  man  discover  some- 
thing which  he  thinks  is  wrong;  and  then  he 
tries  to  do  something  about  it.  That 's  what  Our 
People  call  hysteria.  When  people  are  hysterical, 
they  won't  take  what  we  offer  them.  They  want 
to  know  whether  it's  good  for  them;  as  if  that 
mattered.  It  has  gone  so  far  that  everything  is 
investigated.  Now  you  can't  expect  able  men  to 
give  their  talents  to  looking  after  their  own  inter- 
ests if  they  are  meddled  with  in  that  way.  It  dis- 
tracts their  minds.  By  and  by  the  able  men  will 
be  discouraged,  and  instead  of  developing  the 
great  industries  they  will  go  to  writing  books,  or 
painting  pictures,  or  teaching  kindergartens,  just 
to  pass  away  the  time.  And  then  our  industries 


i6o    MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION 

will  go  to  ruin,  and  the  Japanese  will  catch  us. 
A  great  many  able  men  feel  that  way,  and  ex- 
press themselves  very  strongly. 

"  I  find  the  same  feeling  among  those  who  are 
being  interfered  with  in  politics.  A  gentleman 
who  has  been  carrying  on  the  affairs  of  a  great 
city  and  receiving  no  pay  but  such  as  came  '  on 
the  side '  showed  me  the  report  of  a  Bureau  of 
Municipal  Research.  It  was  positively  insulting. 
The  men  who  got  it  up  did  n't  even  know  what 
a  bureau  is.  A  bureau  is  a  device  for  getting 
things  done  by  referring  them  to  another  bureau 
that  refers  them  back.  But  these  fellows  got  up 
a  bureau  for  finding  out  why  our  bureaus  don't 
work,  and  why  they  cost  so  much.  The  report 
was  full  of  figures.  We  had  no  objection  to  that, 
for  we  can  figure  too.  But  the  mischief  of  it  was 
that  these  figures  were  arranged  so  that  you  could 
tell  what  they  meant.  It  was  a  bare-faced  attempt 
to  gratify  intellectual  curiosity. 

"  My  friend  said  that  if  this  thing  kept  up,  he 
would  give  up  politics  in  disgust,  and  live  on  the 
interest  of  what  he  had  already  got  out  of  it. 

"He  said  that  the  whole  system  of  govern- 
ment, as  he  understood  it,  consisted  in  getting 


MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION    261 

experts  to  run  it.  The  public  is  the  owner  of  a 
high-powered  machine ;  the  professional  politician 
is  the  chauffeur.  If  the  chauffeur  wants  to  take 
friends  out  for  a  'joy  ride,'  the  owner  ought  n't  to 
complain.  He  can't  get  along  without  the  chauf- 
feur, for  he  does  n't  know  how  to  run  the  machine 
himself." 

"But,"  I  asked,  "couldn't  he  learn  how?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Merry  Devil,  "  I  suppose  he 
might,  if  he  took  the  trouble." 

"Then,"  said  I,  "I  take  it  that  the  kind  of 
education  you  object  to  is  the  kind  that  makes 
people  take  the  trouble  to  look  into  things." 

"  Precisely,"  said  the  Merry  Devil,  "  I  hate  to 
see  people  take  the  trouble  to  look  into  things. 
It  induces  the  habit  of  discrimination.  Now  that 
is  n't  healthy.  In  a  state  of  nature  people  take 
everything  for  granted.  Why  shouldn't  they? 
It  shows  confidence  in  human  nature.  I  like  to 
see  people  respectful  to  their  betters.  If  they 
allow  themselves  to  ask,  'Are  they  really  our 
betters  ? '  that  is  n't  respectful.  You  can't  have 
an  aristocracy  —  not  a  good  comfortable  aristo- 
cracy —  where  people  ask  questions.  By  the  way, 
have  you  ever  met  a  Captain  of  Industry  ?  " 


262     MERRY   DEVIL   OF  EDUCATION 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "at  least  that  was  what  the 
newspapers  called  him." 

"What  struck  you  as  his  most  interesting 
characteristic  ?  " 

"  It  struck  me  that  he  was  very  rich." 

"  That  is,  he  had  more  money,  you  think,  than 
was  good  for  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,  but  he  had  more 
than  was  good  for  his  children." 

"  Did  it  ever  occur  to  you,"  said  the  Merry 
Devil,  "  that  it  was  curious  that  a  captain  got  so 
much  out  of  the  service  as  that  ?  Even  a  major- 
general  does  a  good  deal  of  hard  work  for  small 
pay.  He  can't  lay  up  much.  Are  you  sure  that 
your  friend  was  n't  an  army  contractor  instead  of 
a  captain  ?  " 

"Now  that  you  mention  it,"  I  said,  "I  do 
think  he  talked  more  like  an  army  contractor.  I 
thought,  at  the  time,  that  he  was  n't  very  soldierly, 
especially  when  I  found  that  he  did  n't  know  any- 
thing about  his  men.  He  said  that  all  his  men 
are  on  the  other  side.  He  seemed  to  think  that 
was  the  normal  situation." 

The  Merry  Devil  laughed  heartily.  "  Just  see 
where  you  are  coming  out,  and  just  because  I 


MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION     263 

asked  you  two  or  three  questions.  You  have  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  gentleman  you  admired 
was  n't  a  Captain  of  Industry  at  all,  though  the 
newspapers  said  he  was.  It  is  n*t  safe  to  ask  ques- 
tions, unless  you  are  willing  to  hear  the  answers. 

"When  Thomas  Carlyle  invented  that  term 
Captains  of  Industry,  it  scared  Our  People  half 
to  death.  Carlyle's  idea  was  that  the  time  had 
come  when  persons  would  take  up  business  as 
one  goes  into  the  army.  An  officer  has  to  think 
of  the  army  first  and  himself  afterward.  If  he 
doesn't,  he's  cashiered.  We  were  afraid  that  a 
large  number  of  youths  might  be  educated  in 
that  way.  When  we  saw  some  of  the  Captains  of 
Industry  who  passed  without  question,  we  were 
greatly  comforted." 

The  Merry  Devil  continued  in  a  more  chas- 
tened mood.  *'  It  isn't  merely  the  person  who  is 
looking  after  his  own  interests,  who  should  be 
protected  against  intellectual  curiosity.  Disinter- 
ested persons  who  spend  their  lives  in  doing  good, 
make  the  same  complaint  in  regard  to  certain 
kinds  of  education.  You  know  we  don't  object  to 
people  trying  to  do  good,  so  long  as  they  don't 
succeed.  It  serves  to  keep  them  busy,  and  it  takes 


264    MERRY  DEVIL  OF   EDUCATION 

their  minds  off  themselves.  We  like  to  see  them 
move  in  the  line  of  the  least  resistance.  The  easier 
their  good  work  is  for  them,  the  less  it  interferes 
with  our  plans.  We  like  to  see  righteousness 
moving  in  ruts.  It 's  only  when  it  breaks  out  in 
an  unexpected  place  that  it 's  dangerous.  But  in- 
tellectual curiosity  gets  people  out  of  their  ruts, 
and  sometimes  they  run  wild.  Education,  if  it 
is  n't  carefully  looked  after,  is  a  disturbing  influ- 
ence. It  more  than  doubles  the  labor,  and  makes 
a  good  man  dissatisfied  with  himself. 

'^  The  other  day  a  minister,  a  worthy  man,  took 
me  into  his  confidence,  and  told  me  his  troubles. 
He  had  been  gifted  with  a  strong  voice  and  a 
confident  manner,  and  had  acquired  a  reputation 
for  eloquence.  He  had  by  constant  practice  over- 
come the  timidity  which  comes  to  a  public  speaker 
when  he  stops  to  think  whether  what  he  is  about 
to  say  is  worth  while.  He  did  not  need  to  stop  to 
think,  he  was  such  an  easy  speaker.  He  never 
was  at  a  loss  for  a  word,  and  would  use  the  words 
as  a  life-preserver  as  he  struck  out  boldly  for  his 
next  head.  He  knew  that  he  would  always  be 
buoyed  up  in  this  way,  so  that  the  preparation  of 
his  sermons  never  interfered  with  his  parish  calls. 


MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION    265 

"One  day  in  the  midst  of  a  most  eloquent 
passage  he  observed  a  man  in  the  back  pew  with 
a  look  of  intellectual  curiosity  in  his  countenance. 
He  was  evidently  impressed  by  the  volume  of 
sound,  and  was  trying  to  find  out  what  it  was  all 
about.  The  minister  said  that  instantly  the  same 
thought  came  to  his  own  mind,  and  for  the  life 
of  him  he  could  n't  tell  what  it  was  about.  Un- 
fortunately the  man  became  a  regular  attendant 
and  always  looked  interested. 

"The  minister  said  that  that  one  parishioner 
who  insists  on  thinking  while  he  is  in  church  has 
caused  him  more  mental  disquietude  than  all  the 
others  put  together.  Sometimes  a  fine  illustration 
is  spoiled  by  seeing  the  look  of  inquiry  as  to 
what  it  illustrates.  The  man  in  the  back  pew  has 
changed  sermon-making  from  a  pleasure  to  hard 
work. 

"Now  what  do  you  think  of  an  education 
which  makes  life  harder  for  good  people  ?  When 
a  man  is  doing  his  best,  it 's  taking  an  unfair 
advantage  of  him  to  raise  the  standard.  It  makes 
him  unhappy." 

There  was  such  a  look  of  genuine  commisera- 
tion that  for  the  first  time  it  occurred  to  me  that 


iSe    MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION 

my  visitor  was  human,  and  I  had  been  remiss  in 
my  attentions. 

"  Do  take  a  chair,"  I  said,  vaguely. 

"  No,  thanks  !  I  '11  sit  on  the  curb  of  your  ink- 
well." 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  may  fall  in." 

"  No  matter  if  I  do.  Ink  is  my  native  element." 

Then  he  chatted  so  pleasantly  about  the  kind 
of  education  which  he  found  unobjectionable  that 
I  was  quite  charmed  with  him.  He  believed  sin- 
cerely in  what  are  called  "accomplishments,"  and 
was  willing  to  have  them  carried  to  almost  any 
extent. 

"  I  like,"  he  said,  "  that  good  old  term  '  polite 
learning.'  Now  the  first  rule  of  politeness  is  not 
to  contradict.  So  long  as  Learning  does  n't  con- 
tradict, Our  People  are  willing  to  treat  it  liber- 
ally and  give  it  things.  We  don't  make  any 
bargain,  but  of  course  we  expect  it  to  back  us 
up,  or  at  least  not  to  make  any  trouble.  We 
don't  care  how  long  it  takes  a  learned  man  to 
come  to  his  conclusions,  we  are  willing  to  humor 
him  if  he  wants  to  use  the  scientific  method,  but 
his  conclusions  must  be  sound." 

"  But  what  if  the  facts  point  the  other  way  ?  " 


MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION     267 

"  He  should  be  more  careful  in  selecting  his 
facts,"  said  the  Merry  Devil. 

"Would  n't  it  be  better,"  I  suggested,  "if  the 
learned  man  did  n't  come  to  any  conclusion  at 
all?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Merry  Devil,  "  and  that 's  the 
way  I  work  it  whenever  I  can.  You  see  there 
are  two  kinds  of  science,  pure  science  and  ap- 
plied science.  Now  pure  science  would  be  per- 
fectly harmless  if  we  could  keep  people  from 
finding  it  out,  and  applying  it.  I  tell  the  profes- 
sors that  they  should  be  more  careful  and  use 
obscure  language  wherever  possible.  Otherwise 
their  pupils  will  draw  conclusions.  Sciences  like 
Ethics  and  Sociology  and  History  and  Political 
Economy  ought  to  be  kept  pure.  I  hate  to  see  a 
man  interested  in  affairs  teaching  such  subjects." 

"  I  suppose,"  I  said,  "  that  you  are  afraid  that 
the  students  would  come  to  see  that  these  are  af- 
fairs that  they  have  to  deal  with." 

"  It 's  a  real  danger,"  said  the  Merry  Devil. 
"  Now  I  feel  a  tender  affection  for  Truth.  I  don't 
like  to  see  it  exposed." 

"  It  seems,"  I  remarked,  "  that  you  do  not 
agree  with  the  pragmatic  theory  that  Truth  is 


268     MERRY   DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION 

something  that  makes  a  difference,  and  that  a 
thing  which  does  n't  make  a  difference  is  n't  true." 
*'  I  don't  quarrel  about  words,  and  if  a  thing 
does  n't  make  any  difference  I  don't  care  whether 
it 's  true  or  not.  I  tell  Our  People  that  they 
need  n't  worry  about  Education  so  long  as  I  look 
after  it.  I  know  communities  that  are  full  of  edu- 
cated men,  and  they  don't  make  any  difference. 
Now  what 's  the  harm  in  it  *?  I  have  personally 
conducted  parties  through  all  the  branches  of 
learning,  and  they  were  not  in  the  least  affected 
by  it.  What  I  most  enjoy  is  to  experiment  with 
a  successful  self-made  man.  He  is  an  easy  mark 
and  will  pay  liberally  for  an  educational  gold 
brick.  He  has  made  his  own  way  in  the  world 
by  force  of  ability  and  hard  work.  But  when  it 
comes  to  his  son  he  is  the  most  credulous  crea- 
ture alive.  He  is  ready  to  believe  that  something 
can  be  had  for  nothing.  When  he  sends  his  son 
to  college  the  last  thing  he  thinks  of  is  that  the 
lad  will  have  to  work  for  all  that  he  gets.  He 
has  an  idea  that  a  miracle  of  some  kind  is  about 
to  be  performed  in  the  enchanted  castle  of  the 
Liberal  Arts.  The  boy  will  have  all  sorts  of 
things  done  for  him.   He  will  get  Mental  Disci- 


MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION    269 

pline,  which  is  a  fine  thing  to  have.  Certain 
studies  are  rich  in  discipline.  If  he  does  n't  elect 
these  disciplinary  studies  he  will  doubtless  get 
all  the  Mental  DiscipHne  he  needs  by  living  in 
the  same  town  with  a  number  of  hard-working 
professors.  Every  college  which  has  been  a  long 
time  on  the  same  spot  has  Ideals.  The  youth  is 
supposed  to  get  these  Ideals,  though  he  is  uncon- 
scious of  them  at  the  time.  In  after  years  they 
will  be  explained  to  him  at  the  class  reunions 
and  he  will  be  glad  that  he  absorbed  them.  To- 
wards the  end  of  his  college  course  he  will  show 
signs  of  superiority  to  his  parents,  and  there  will 
be  symptoms  of  world-weariness.  He  will  be  in- 
clined to  think  that  nothing  is  quite  worth  while. 
That  tired  feeling  is  diagnosed  as  '  Culture.'  The 
undergraduate  has  become  acquainted  with  the 
best  that  has  been  said  and  known  in  the  world, 
and  sees  that  it  does  n't  amount  to  much  after  all. 
"The  fellows  who  have  to  work  their  way 
have  a  hard  time,  but  the  sons  of  fortune  may  be 
educated  with  surprisingly  little  effort.  They  have 
so  many  advantages.  I  notice  the  same  principle 
in  some  of  the  states  where  the  educational  test 
is  pleasantly  mitigated  by  what  is  called  *the 


ayo    MERRY   DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION 

grandfather  clause'  A  person  with  the  right 
kind  of  grandfather  does  n*t  need  to  labor  with 
the  alphabet  in  order  to  be  allowed  to  vote.  It  is 
assumed  that  he  has  certain  hereditary  qualities 
which  are  a  good  substitute  for  reading  and  writ- 
ing." 

"  I  think  that  there 's  a  great  deal  in  heredity/* 
I  said. 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  Merry  Devil,  "  there 's  a 
great  deal  more  in  it  than  seems  to  come  out." 

He  then  explained  how  he  gained  the  confi- 
dence of  the  student  and  made  his  college  days 
one  long,  bright  dream. 

"He  spends  four  care-free  years  without  be- 
ing troubled  by  a  serious  thought.  When  the 
time  is  up  I  make  use  of  the  psychological 
method  of  suggestion.  I  suggest  to  him  that  now 
he  has  an  education.  And  he  does  n't  know  but 
he  has,  —  he  has  been  exposed  to  it. 

"The  very  elaboration  of  our  educational 
scheme  makes  it  easier  for  me  to  circumvent  the 
educators.  It  was  different  with  the  ancient  Per- 
sians, who  taught  their  youth  to  ride,  to  shoot,  and 
to  speak  the  truth.  It  was  hard  to  sophisticate  so 
simple  a  curriculum.  You  could  tell  what  an 


MERRY   DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION    271 

educated  man  could  do.  If  he  habitually  tumbled 
off  his  horse,  and  missed  the  mark,  and  told  lies, 
you  knew  that  he  hadn't  been  educated.  But 
nowadays  you  can't  tell  what  turn  a  man's  edu- 
cation may  have  taken. 

"  Only  the  other  day  I  met  a  man  who  seemed 
to  me  the  most  unintelligent  person  I  had  met  in 
many  a  month.  I  tried  him  on  all  sorts  of  sub- 
jects of  common  interest,  and  could  not  get  the 
slightest  response.  There  seemed  to  be  a  lack  of 
sympathetic  imagination  and  a  singular  aversion 
to  general  ideas.  I  soon  learned  the  reason.  He 
was  about  to  take  the  last  degree,  which  was  to 
cut  him  off  forever  from  the  unlearned  world. 
He  had  passed  through  a  terrible  ordeal  and  had 
for  a  year  or  two  been  subjected  to  cruel  and  un- 
usual knowledge.  He  had  taken  a  Trappist  vow 
of  silence  upon  all  subjects  unconnected  with  his 
Thesis,  'Some  Minor  Mistakes  in  Algonkian 
Etymology.'  He  was  reduced  almost  to  a  shadow 
because  he  was  afraid  that  the  mistakes  he  had 
discovered  were  n't  small  enough.  He  must  find 
some  mistakes  that  everybody  else  had  over- 
looked, in  order  to  prove  his  capacity  for  Origi- 
nal Research." 


272     MERRY   DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION 

"That  seems  reasonable  enough,"  I  said.  "I 
suppose  that  he  intends  to  go  into  original  re- 
search as  his  life  work,  and  that  is  excellent  dis- 
cipline for  him.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  have  a  part 
in  the  Advancement  of  Science." 

"Advancement  of  Science!  Fiddlesticks!" 
said  the  Merry  Devil,  "  he  is  n't  going  in  for  any 
more  research  after  he  finishes  his  thesis.  What 
he  wants  to  do  is  to  teach  in  a  good  school,  and 
people  have  the  idea  that  an  infallible  test  is  the 
capacity  for  Original  Research." 

"But  I  should  think  that  teaching  half-grown 
boys  was  quite  different ;  indeed  involved  almost 
exactly  the  opposite  methods  and  talents.  The 
capacity  which  the  ordinary  teacher  most  needs 
is  that  of  making  the  rudiments  interesting.  He 
is  not  intent  on  finding  something  new,  but  it  is 
his  business  to  communicate  ideas  that  are  the 
common  property  of  mankind.  I  should  think 
that,  after  spending  several  years  in  minute  study 
of  some  unfrequented  bypath,  he  would  not  be 
very  well  fitted  to  conduct  boys  upon  the  main 
road,  and  make  them  interested  in  it.  It  would 
seem  to  me  that  he  might  lose  something  of  the 
sense  of  proportion,  which,  after  all,  is  quite  an 


MERRY   DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION    273 

essential  thing.  Would  n't  it  have  been  better  to 
have  spent  the  time  in  getting  a  strong  grasp 
upon  the  most  essential  things,  so  that  he  could 
thoroughly  humanize  and  idealize  what  he  had 
to  teach?" 

"  You  don't  understand,"  said  the  Merry  Devil. 
"  The  important  thing  is  to  set  a  high  standard." 

Then  he  began  to  dance  about  the  room,  sing- 
ing,— 

"Hi  Diddle  Diddle,  the  cat  and  the  fiddle. 
The  cow  jumped  over  the  moon. 

"That  was  a  high  standard  for  the  cow.  It 
showed  what  she  could  do,  even  if  she  never  tried 
to  do  it  again.  I  suppose  you  may  ask  whether 
it  added  to  her  value  as  a  plain  family  cow.  Per- 
haps not,  but  it  was  interesting  as  a  sporting  pro- 
position. From  my  point  of  view  there  is  a  great 
advantage  in  having  the  ambitious  scholar  avoid 
the  habitable  parts  of  the  earth,  and  spend  a  few 
years  in  some  arid  spot.  A  little  of  this  aridity 
gets  into  his  manner.  A  schoolmaster  who  has 
kept  to  the  main  road  is  likely  to  seize  upon  the 
salient  points,  and  to  show  the  relations  of  one 
thing  to  another.  Such  a  person  is  likely  to  have 
ftn  undue  influence  over  boys.  They  might  be- 


274    MERRY   DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION 

come  as  enthusiastic  over  scholarship  as  over 
football.  Before  you  know  it,  you  would  be  back 
to  the  puritanical  ideas  of  Milton  of  a  school 
where  there  are  '  such  Lectures  and  Explanations 
upon  every  opportunity  as  may  lead  and  draw 
them  in  willing  obedience,  enflamed  with  the 
study  of  Learning,  and  the  admiration  of  Virtue, 
stirred  up  with  high  hopes  of  living  to  be  brave 
men  and  worthy  Patriots,  dear  to  God  and  famous 
to  all  ages/  All  the  time  the  schoolmaster  would 
be  'infusing  into  their  young  breasts  such  an 
ingenuous  and  noble  ardor  as  would  not  fail  to 
make  many  of  them  renowned  and  matchless 
men.'  Does  n't  that  sound  hysterical  ?  Just  think 
of  inflaming  them  with  the  study  of  learning  !  I 
say  it 's  the  business  of  the  teacher  to  cool  them 
off.  It  all  comes  back  to  the  talk  about  learning 
to  do  things,  not  only  skillfully  but  magnani- 
mously. Is  that  what  you  want  to  encourage  in 
schools  that  cost  good  money  ?  " 

*'  Magnanimity,"  I  said,  "  is  an  excellent  qual- 
ity," 

"  There  you  are  wrong,"  said  the  Merry  Devil. 
"  Magnanimity  is  not  a  quality,  it 's  a  quantity,  as 
you  ought  to  know.   It  is,  literally,  big-minded- 


MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION    275 

ness.  There  is  something  vulgar  about  bigness. 
A  neat  little  mind  is  much  more  pleasing  to  a 
person  of  taste.  If  a  man's  mind  is  bigger  than 
his  business,  it's  awkward  for  him.  It  gets  him 
into  all  sorts  of  trouble.  He 's  always  seeing  the 
other  side,  and  going  against  his  own  interests. 
He  gets  himself  so  mixed  up  with  the  mass  of 
mankind  that  sometimes  he  loses  the  chance  to 
get  ahead.  And  when  he  does  get  an  idea  into 
his  head  it 's  hard  to  control  him.  You  can't  stop 
a  magnanimous  man  by  telling  him  that  he  will 
probably  get  hurt  if  he  goes  on.  It 's  hard  to  un^ 
derstand  his  motives.  My  business  is  to  keep 
magnanimity  from  getting  too  much  of  a  start.  I 
begin  early.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  magnanimity 
in  small  children.  They  go  about  with  notions 
that  are  several  sizes  too  large  for  them.  When- 
ever I  catch  a  youngster  acting  from  a  magnani- 
mous motive  I  put  a  little  pusillanimous  motive 
in  its  place.  It  acts  like  a  charm.  Parents  and 
teachers  like  it  because  it  makes  discipline  easier. 
They  see  results,  and  that 's  what  they  want.  Of 
course  there  are  other  results  that  they  don't 
see. 

"  Did  you  ever  see,"  he  continued,  "  a  small 


276    MERRY   DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION 

boy  helping  his  father  in  the  garden  ?  If  the  father 
has  a  large  spade  and  a  wheelbarrow  the  boy 
wants  a  little  spade  and  a  tiny  wheelbarrow,  so 
that  he  can  help.  It 's  a  privilege  to  be  allowed  to 
work  for  the  family.  You  perhaps  know  Tenny- 
son's little  poem  called  '  Wages.'  He  says  that 
all  that  heroes  ask  is  '  the  wages  of  going  on.* 
That  sounds  very  magnanimous,  —  in  a  man. 
Almost  all  boys  are  like  that  to  begin  with.  All 
they  ask  is  the  wages  of  going  on,  with  people 
whom  they  admire  and  in  something  that  seems 
to  be  worth  while.  Just  think  what  a  state  of 
things  there  would  be  if  they  acted  that  way 
when  they  grew  up ! 

"  I  suggest  to  the  father  that  he  had  better  pay 
the  boy  for  all  the  little  services  which  he  had 
been  doing  for  the  love  of  it.  In  a  little  while  the 
lad  loses  his  magnanimous  ways  and  drives  a 
sharp  bargain  whenever  he  is  sent  on  an  errand. 
This  pleases  the  father,  for  he  knows  now  that 
his  son  will  be  able  to  hold  his  own.  I  work  the 
same  plan  in  school.  There  are  all  sorts  of  ways 
of  taking  the  spirit  out  of  a  child.  Nagging  is 
one  way,  but  foolish  little  rewards  are  often  more 
effective.   He  can  resent  a  punishment,  but  he 


MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION    277 

cannot  resent  a  reward  of  merit  that  he  does  n't 
want  and  that  he  knows  he  does  n't  deserve.  He 
can  only  feel  morally  awkward  at  what  is  evi- 
dently an  anti-climax.  How  would  you  feel  if 
you  had  done  a  moderately  heroic  act,  and  the 
person  whom  you  had  rescued  were  to  put  his 
hand  in  his  pocket  and  say,  'Here,  my  good 
man,  is  a  silver  dollar,  —  it  is  no  more  than  you 
deserve.'  Children  are  treated  that  way  all 
the  time  —  and  some  of  them  learn  to  like  it. 
Even  in  college  you  may  see  the  student  —  a 
grown  man  —  still  working  for  '  marks.'  He  has 
not  come  to  the  point  where  he  works  for  the 
*  wages  of  going  on.' " 

"  In  that  case  he  does  n't  go  on,"  I  said. 

"No,"  said  the  Merry  Devil,  "not  after  he 
gets  his  diploma." 

The  conversation  drifted  from  one  phase  of 
the  subject  to  another.  I  noticed  that  as  long  as 
we  talked  of  systems  and  methods  the  Merry 
Devil  retained  his  jaunty  air.  He  was  an  old 
hand  at  finding  the  weak  points  in  the  best  in- 
ventions. But  when  we  came  to  mention  the 
names  of  certain  teachers,  I  thought  I  detected 
"  a  lurking  trouble  in  his  nether  lip."  There  was 


278     MERRY  DEVIL  OF  EDUCATION 

evidently  a  personal  element  which  he  could  not 
easily  deal  with. 

"  In  spite  of  all  your  efforts,"  I  said,  "  I  pre- 
dict that  you  will  be  beaten  at  last.  The  business 
of  training  citizens  for  a  democracy  has  just 
begun.  Educational  ideals  have  thus  far  been 
largely  dominated  by  aristocratic  preconceptions. 
The  aim  has  been  to  train  the  few  to  rule  the 
many,  or  at  least  to  escape  from  vulgar  contact 
with  those  beneath  them.  Education  has  been 
the  badge  of  a  superior  class. 

"  Such  education  was  morally  superficial.  It  in- 
vited pedantry.  But  to  those  who  take  democra- 
cy seriously  education  becomes  at  once  the  most 
difficult  and  the  most  necessary  part  of  statesman- 
ship. Its  aim  is  to  enable  the  many  to  govern 
themselves  and  to  realize  the  possibilities  of  their 
own  nature.  This  is  the  affair  not  of  the  pedant  but 
of  the  patriot.  To  me  the  significant  thing  is  the 
power  that  lies  in  the  personality  of  the  teacher 
and  which  exerts  an  influence  on  the  whole  char- 
acter. Now  I  can  tell  you  of  a  born  teacher  who — " 

"  Oh,"  said  the  Merry  Devil,  holding  up  his 
hands,  "  I  never  claimed  to  be  a  match  for  a  bom 
teacher." 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .   S    .   A 


